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Times of Retirement 



Times of Retirement 



Devotional Meditations 



/ 



BY 



GEORGE MATHESON, M.A., D.D., F.R.S.E. 



AUTHOR OF 



Moments on the Mount," "Voices of the Spirit," Etc. 



WITH A BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 
OF THE AUTHOR 

By the Rev. D. MacMillan 




NEW YORK CHICAGO TORONTO 

FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY 
1901 

L 



*fi 



& * ^fi 



THE LIBRARY OF 

CONGRESS, 
Two Cones Received 

NOV, 4 1901 

Copyright entry 
CLASS &, XXo. No. 

copy a 



Copyright 1901 

BY 

FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY 
(September) 



Press of 

Riggs Printing <5r» Publishing Co. 

Albany, N. Y. 



Prefa 



ce 



AT the request of many I have collected 
these fugitive devotional pieces which 
at stray moments I have been con- 
tributing to an organ of the Church of Scotland 
— " Saint Andrew." They have been the diver- 
sion from sustained work, and in no other light 
do I offer them. Yet there are some who can- 
not study sustained work; they have not leisure 
enough or they have not health enough. For 
such, truth must come " in a moment, in the 
twinkling of an eye." Any one of these med- 
itations can be read in three minutes; yet three 
minutes may influence a whole day. Accord- 
ingly, I have consented to give them collective 
form. They will not all appeal equally to every 
mood of mind. Where one does not appeal, 
lay it aside, but do not throw it away; what is 
not your message to-day may be your message 
to-morrow. It is often said that devotion is a 
thing of the heart. I do not think it is either 
5 



6 PREFACE 

merely or mainly so. I hold that all emotion 
is based upon intellectual conviction. Even 
your sense of natural beauty is so based. 
Whence comes that joy with which you gaze 
on a bit of landscape you call " a picture- 
scene " ? Precisely from your intellectual con- 
viction that it is not a picture; if you believed 
it to be a painting, your emotion would die 
altogether. A man may have faith in what he 
does not understand, but he cannot have emo- 
tion in what he does not understand. The 
heart must have a theory for its own music. 
Therefore the devotional writer must have a 
message as much as the expositor. Devotion 
must be the child of reflection; it may rise on 
wings, but they must be the wings of thought. 
The meditations of this little book will appeal to 
the instinct of prayer just in proportion as they 
appeal to the teachings of experience; there- 
fore, before all things, I have endeavoured to 
base the feelings of the heart on the conclusions 

of the mind. 

G. M. 
Edinburgh, 1901. 



Rev. George Matheson, D.D. 

*A Biographical Sketch by the Rev. D. MacMillan, 
M. A., Editor of " Saint Andrew." 

GEORGE MATHESON was born just 
a year before the great Disruption 
took place in that Church which he 
was afterwards destined to adorn; and though 
the period from then till now is as historians 
measure time comparatively brief, a change 
has come over the face of ecclesiastical Scot- 
land which is as striking as it is hopeful. 
1843 saw the formation of the Free Church 
through secession from the Church of Scot- 
land, and 1900 saw the creation of the United 
Free Church by a union of the Free and United 
Presbyterian Churches. The larger visible 
union which some dream of, may be in the dis- 
tant future; still, a kindlier spirit prevails, and 
* Prepared at the special request of the publishers. 
7 



8 GEORGE MATHESON 

a recognition of the invisible bonds which 
make all Christians one, may be declared to be 
the chief religious feature of the time. So 
far Dr. Matheson has not lived in vain, for 
though seldom if ever taking part in the pro- 
ceedings of Church courts, or enacting in any 
way the role of the ecclesiastic, he has ever 
striven to discover those deeper springs of 
religious thought and feeling which are com- 
mon to all and which explain and reconcile the 
outward differences. It is the Christian 
thinker who sows the seeds of those move- 
ments which in due time take visible shape in 
the Church; and within recent years no one by 
voice or pen has done more than has the sub- 
ject of the present memoir to discover those 
elements of the spiritual life which lie beneatli 
creeds and forms of church government, and 
which make all believing hearts one. 

Dr. Matheson was born in Glasgow on 
March 27, 1842. He was fortunate in his 
place of birth. There is no city in the United 
Kingdom, probably no city in the Empire, 
which during the Victorian era made such 
rapid strides as Glasgow. The enterprise of 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 9 

its merchants and the energy of its municipal 
rulers have become a proverb. In population, 
size and wealth its progress for a European 
city has been almost phenomenal. It has its 
feet, however, firmly planted on the historic 
past. Its Cathedral dates from the dawn of 
the middle ages, and its University from be- 
fore the Reformation. Hence it possesses the 
two elements which are conducive to true de- 
velopment — love of the past and hope for the 
future, a freedom which is restrained from 
running into license, and a conservatism which 
is saved from obscurantism. One can readily 
understand the influence which such a city 
would have upon the mental growth of a young 
man of Matheson's temperament. Keenly 
susceptible to outward impressions and intel- 
lectually alive to the spirit of the times, he 
must in the earlier period of his life have been 
greatly moulded by his environment. It can- 
not accordingly be accounted an accident that 
we find in his writings the same boldness of 
thought and eager breaking of fresh ground, 
which characterise his native city in its com- 
mercial and municipal enterprises, along with 



io GEORGE MATHESON 

a reverence for tradition which gives to each 
landmark its true place in human development. 

Dr. Matheson was also fortunate in his par- 
entage. He has sprung from those in whom 
were combined the best features of the national 
life. He has in his veins the blood of the Celtic 
Highlander and the Lowland Scot. It is to 
this union in his nature we must look for that 
happy blending of imagination and reason 
which gives to his writings their peculiar 
power, and to his preaching that touch of in- 
sight and persuasive eloquence which is its 
special charm. 

Dr. Matheson's parents, at the time of his 
birth, resided at 39 Abbottsford Place, on the 
south side of the river. The district was then 
regarded as most desirable for residential pur- 
poses. It has, however, been subjected to the 
changes which have affected Glasgow since 
that period. The houses are still considered 
good, but the needs of an ever growing com- 
merce have compelled those who desire quiet 
and purer air to live in the outskirts of the city 
or in one of the many suburbs that have sprung 
up during the last half-century. Dr. Mathe- 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH n 

son's father — the founder of the well-known 
firm of Wilson, Matheson & Co., was in good, 
and latterly in affluent circumstances, and so 
was able to give his son the best education that 
Glasgow could offer. He accordingly sent 
him to the Academy, which was then situated 
in Elmbank street, the buildings being the same 
as those in which the High School is now 
housed. There young Matheson had a bril- 
liant career. He carried off the first prize in 
every department. It now became evident that 
the young scholar was destined for a profes- 
sional career, and that career the Church. 
The intellectual ability, literary aspirations 
and oratorical gifts and love for preaching 
which he had already developed pointed to this 
course as the only possible one. Accordingly 
in 1859 he matriculated as a student in Glas- 
gow University. The Scottish universities 
have always occupied an honourable position 
in the educational world. They are of ancient 
origin, and though for many generations they 
had to struggle for their very existence, they 
have ever striven to keep pace with the intel- 
lectual need of the country, and through 



12 GEORGE MATHESON 

them Scotland has, in proportion to its popu- 
lation, probably sent into the professions and 
public life more successful and noted men 
than any other constituent portion of the 
Kingdom or Empire. They have never been 
without distinguished teachers in one or more 
of the departments of study — the advantages 
which they offer drawing to them some of the 
ablest and most scholarly men in the United 
Kingdom. 

When Dr. Matheson became a student the 
University was situated in High street. It 
was not a building without striking features, 
as is testified by the gateway — the only portion 
remaining — at the entrance to the magnificent 
new buildings on Gilmorehill. The site of 
the old college is now occupied by a large 
railway depot, and hardly a sign of the ancient 
walls remains. During his career as a student 
he had the good fortune to receive instruction 
at the hands of several noted men. William 
Ramsay was professor of Latin, Edmund Law 
Lushington of Greek, Robert Buchanan of 
Logic, and Lord Kelvin of Natural Philosophy. 
Young 'Matheson took a leading part in 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 13 

classics, and carried off everything in logic 
and philosophy. It was at this period that he 
gave the first proofs of that pre-eminence in 
speculative thought which has since distin- 
guished, him. Glasgow had had a succession 
of able men in that department of study, and 
from the days of Francis Hutcheson had been 
famous for its philosophical eminence. It was 
to receive additional lustre a few years later 
when Edward Caird became professor of 
Moral Philosophy; but Robert Buchanan was 
no unworthy successor of Adam Smith., Cer- 
tain it is that he stimulated young Matheson's 
ardour in pursuit of his favourite study, with 
the happy result that the pupil took the first 
prize in the senior division of the Logic class, 
and gained a similar honour for an essay on 
the best specimen of Socratic Dialogue. He 
was first prizeman also in the Moral Phil- 
osophy class, and graduated in 1862 with hon- 
ours in Philosophy. It was about this time 
that a calamity which would have daunted 
most men befel him. At the age of twenty 
he became practically blind. When only eigh- 
teen months old his sight began to be affected 



i 4 GEORGE MATHESON 

by internal inflammation, which recurring in- 
termittently, finally destroyed it. During the 
gradual decline he was able with his own eyes 
to acquire a knowledge of Latin, Greek, French 
and German, and to learn penmanship. The 
foundation of his wide scholarship was thus 
providentially laid. Quite undismayed by what 
to the vast majority of men would have proved 
a fatal misfortune Dr. Matheson determined 
to proceed with his studies, and so he entered 
the Divinity Hall in the autumn of 1862. This 
was Dr. John Caird's first session as professor 
of Systematic Theology in Glasgow Univer- 
sity. Caird began his new duties with the repu- 
tation of being the most popular preacher in 
Scotland. Many were doubtful as to his quali- 
fications for a post which demanded thought 
and scholarship rather than eloquence. He 
soon dispelled all doubts. During the later 
part of his ministerial life his mind had been 
turned towards the fresh movements in phil- 
osophy and theology which had recently taken 
place in Germany, and which were beginning to 
affect the trend of thought on these subjects 
in this country. For generations, Scottish 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 15 

students had been accustomed to receive from 
their professors a course in systematic theology 
purely on Calvinistic lines. The high-water- 
mark of this form of teaching can be seen in 
Principal Hill's Lectures on Divinity, pub- 
lished in 1833 by his son, Dr. Alexander Hill, 
Caird's immediate predecessor. However well 
suited for former generations, it was becoming 
daily more evident that the old method of 
treatment could not meet the wants of the new 
race of students. The deeper religious and 
intellectual needs of the times could not be sat- 
isfied by a formal and, in the main, scholastic 
handling. of theology. Hence Caird, with his 
larger outlook, his greater breadth and free- 
dom of spirit, his fresh standpoint and his 
knowledge of and sympathy with the current 
movements of European thought, put a new 
face on Scottish theology, and inspired young 
Matheson with a love for the speculative side 
of religion which has characterised him ever 
since. Associated with Dr. Caird in the Di- 
vinity Faculty were Drs. Jackson, Weir and 
Dickson, professors of Church History, He- 
brew and Biblical Criticism respectively. 



16 GEORGE MATHESON 

Matheson's career in Theology was quite as 
distinguished as in Arts. He graduated as a 
Bachelor of Divinity in 1866, and in the same 
year he was licensed by the Presbytery of Glas- 
gow as a probationer of the Church of Scot- 
land. 

So far all had been well. The bright lad, 
the promising scholar, had received and taken 
advantage of the best education that his native 
land could supply. Anticipating as it were 
the final results of the physical calamity that 
from his earliest years affected him, he took 
time by the forelock and packed into school 
and college days all the learning that great 
ability i£0 mca^ant application could acquire. 
He left, the University the most brilliant stu- 
dent of his time, but what would this avail him 
in the arduous task that now lay before him 
of proving himself able to discharge the duties 
of a profession which demands for success not 
only mental endowments of no mean order, 
but the possession, unimpaired, of all one's 
physical organs ? That was the question which 
the young minister had now to answer, and 
though he had never done anything more in 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 17 

answering it than by securing an appointment 
through popular election to a parish, and dis- 
charging with credit the duties of his office, he 
would deserve to be remembered as one of the 
most remarkable men of his day. But Dr. 
Matheson has done that and much more. He 
has by his great gifts as a preacher and writer 
ranked himself among the most eminent men of 
the time. 

In 1867, six months after license, he was 
appointed assistant to Rev. Dr. MacDuff, 
of Sandyford Church, Glasgow, and in the 
following year he was chosen, by popular elec- 
tion, minister of Innellan. He declined, in 

1880, a unanimous call to succeed '. dim- 
ming, London. He was Baird Lecturer in 

1 88 1, and one of the St. Giles' lecturers for 

1882, and in 1879 the University of Edin- 
burgh conferred on him the honorary degree 
of D.D. In 1886 he was translated to the 
Parish of St. Bernard's, Edinburgh, which he 
resigned two years ago owing to increasing 
literary work. He was offered the Gifford 
Lectureship in the University of Aberdeen for 
1 900- 1 and 1 90 1 -2, but declined; and in 1890 he 



1 8 GEORGE MATHESON 

was elected a fellow of the Royal Society of Ed- 
inburgh. Dr. Matheson's career as an author 
began in 1874, when he was in his thirty-second 
year. It was then he published anonymously 
his first book " Aids to the Study of German 
Theology." It soon reached a third edition, 
the second appearing with the author's name 
on the title page. From then until the autumn 
of last year, when the second volume of his 
latest book " Studies of the Portrait of 
Christ " appeared, he has published altogether 
something like twenty volumes, besides numer- 
ous articles in the leading reviews and maga- 
zines, both in this country and in America. 
Several of his works have been translated into 
other languages : " My Aspirations/' and 
" Words by the Wayside," two devotional 
volumes, into German; his article in the Con- 
temporary Review on " The Originality of the 
Character of Christ " into French; his " Stud- 
ies of the Portrait of Christ " into Chinese. 
For the use of his famous hymn, beginning 
" O Love that wilt not let me go," contributed 
to the revised edition of the " Scottish Hym- 
nal," he has received application from all parts 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 19 

of the world. The mere recital of these facts 
appeals to the imagination. It tells of constant 
steady labour, which only the few have been 
able to equal; but when we reflect that Dr. 
Matheson has nearly all his life been partially 
and since his twentieth year has been prac- 
tically blind, even imagination is quite inca- 
pable of grasping the facts! We can readily 
understand the strong desire of Queen Victoria 
to see and hear this remarkable subject of hers. 
It was in 1885, while he was still at Innellan, 
that she summoned him to preach before her 
at Balmoral. The Queen was extremely de- 
lighted with his sermon, gave him an inter- 
view, spoke of his devotional works which she 
had read, presented him with a small bust of 
herself, asked for a copy of his sermon and in 
parting said : " Your life has been a sorely 
tried, but a very beautiful one." 

Like most great preachers Dr. Matheson at- 
tained distinction at a bound. From the very 
first he drew the eyes of men to him, and his 
hold on the public mind and heart has been 
steadily strengthening. Since the death of 
Principal Caird he has been the greatest Scot- 



20 GEORGE MATHESON 

tish preacher, and this we say not because of the 
vast crowds which assemble to hear him but 
because of the message which he brings and the 
manner in which he delivers it. In these we 
have the measure of the preacher's mind and 
the power of his personality, and they combine 
in him, as in every commanding orator, to give 
him his unique position. 

The congregation of Sandyford Church, 
where he began his ministerial career, was one 
of the largest and most cultured in the West 
End of Glasgow. Dr. MacDuff, its minister, 
had some misgivings about young Matheson's 
choice of a profession. He asked him, however, 
for a sermon; and so delighted was he that he 
appointed him his assistant next day. But it 
was at Innellan that the rising preacher reached 
his full powers and established his reputation. 

Situated on the shores of the Firth of Clyde 
midway between Greenock and Rothesay, In- 
nellan, up to the middle of last century, was lit- 
tle more than a hamlet. With the growth 
of Glasgow and the increased means of loco- 
motion by train and steamboat, it soon began 
to be a favourite summer resort for city mer- 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 21 

chants and their families. In a short time 
pretty villas dotted its shores, and for three 
months in mid-summer a gay throng of visitors 
frequented the village and found health and 
pastime by the waters of the Firth of Clyde. 
No one who has resided at Innellan will feel 
any surprise at its popularity. From the lawn 
in front of the manse, which, with the church 
beside it, crowns the hill that overlooks the vil- 
lage, one's eye rests on a scene as bright and 
winning as is to be found in Scotland. Looking 
to the left, due east almost, the hills of Cowal 
are seen merging into the mountains that guard 
the entrance to Loch Goil and Loch Long, and 
the shores of Kilcreggan seem to close the 
mouth of the Gareloch and the estuary of the 
Clyde. In front and straight south one looks 
on Skelmorlie and the Ayrshire coast. The 
most inspiring view is to the west, where the 
broad waters of the Firth flow into the Irish 
Channel, the far-stretching sea broken by the 
Isle of Cumbrae, Toward Point, the low hills 
of Bute, in the distance the high peaks of Arran 
and standing solitary as a sentinel in mid-chan- 
nel, Ailsa Craig. It is no straining of language 



q.2 GEORGE MATHESON 

to say that Dr. Matheson, during his ministry of 
eighteen years, stimulated, if he did not supply, 
the other two forces which coupled with that of 
Nature make the triumph of man's inner being 
complete. By his preaching he quickened the 
religious and intellectual life of his hearers, 
and visitors to Innellan found that refreshment 
which a union of the three forces — nature, 
mind and spirit — alone can supply. The most 
inspiring memories of youth are intellectual; 
hence it is, that, Dr. Matheson is to us some- 
thing more than a popular preacher. We can- 
not forget those Sundays at Innellan when, 
with the teaching of one of the deepest thinkers 
that then filled a university chair fresh in our 
mind, we attended worship in that little country 
church and listened with rapt admiration to ser- 
mons which were as profound, suggestive and 
stimulating as the lectures of the renowned 
professor. We felt that Matheson discovered 
by a flash of genius what Edward Caird found 
out by a long process of thought. Though 
all seasons revealed the preacher's gifts, it 
was in the summer time that they reached 
their highest level. A crowded church, an 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 23 

intelligent, sympathetic audience and a band 
of ardent disciples drew out his powers; and we 
are among those who think that Dr. Matheson 
never preached better than he did then. True, 
his preaching has developed. In those days, 
his sermons were carefully polished; sentences, 
paragraphs and periods were studiously bal- 
anced. In later years, he has taken command 
of the ship, so to speak, and preaches not by 
rote or rule, but in obedience to his own per- 
sonality. What his sermons may have lost in 
literary finish, they have gained in naturalness, 
directness and power. During the earlier part 
of his career, Dr. Matheson was in the habit 
of dictating his sermons to his secretary and 
then committing them almost verbatim to mem- 
ory, but for many years past he has contented 
himself with carefully thinking out and pre- 
paring a synopsis of his discourse. This he 
easily carries in his mind; and his marvellous 
gift of extempore speech enables him to fill in 
the skeleton in the course of delivery. 

His ministry at Innellan was eminently suc- 
cessful. At the time of his ordination his 
charge was only a chapel of ease. Within the 



24 GEORGE MATHESON 

short period of five years it was by his efforts 
endowed and created into a parish. A year 
earlier the manse was built. All this meant 
the raising of a capital sum of close upon 
£3,000, and when it is remembered that the 
inhabitants numbered only a few hundred and 
that the summer population was at best uncer- 
tain and resident in the village only for a 
month or two, the substantial results achieved 
reveal not only Dr. Matheson's popularity 
as a preacher, but his practical wisdom and 
interest in the Church. At the very time of his 
leaving Innellan, plans were preparing for ex- 
tending the church so as to afford room for the 
increasing congregation that assembled to hear 
him. 

Dr. Matheson was fortunate in his first 
charge. During the winter months the only 
demands on his time were his parochial duties 
and the preparation of his weekly sermon. The 
former were neither numerous nor exacting, 
but they were faithfully discharged; and into the 
latter he put his best thought and energy. His 
practice was to choose on the Sunday night his 
text for the following Sabbath. It was then, to 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 



5 



use his own phrase, " without form and void." 
Each day something was added to it mentally 
until Saturday came, when the sermon was 
complete. To a man of his exceptional intellec- 
tual ability and application, there was accord- 
ingly ample leisure for study and literary work ; 
that leisure was utilised to the utmost. Every 
day saw its allotted share of reading and reflec- 
tion and composition. Within a few years from 
his appointment he began to publish; and the 
number of books that have since been written by 
him, whilst they are proofs of personal indus- 
try, also testify to the advantages of his early 
environment in affording him time for thought 
and reflection. 

Dr. Matheson's reputation was thoroughly 
established when in 1886 he received a call to 
the pastorate of St. Bernard's Parish Church, 
Edinburgh. It was with deep regret and sor- 
row that the parishioners of Innellan parted 
with him. They bade him farewell with every 
token of affection and respect. He had lent dis- 
tinction to the place, and with his departure 
they felt would vanish not a little of its attrac- 
tion to residents and visitors alike. He faced 



26 GEORGE MATHESON 

his new and onerous duties in the large parish 
and among the congregation of 1,700 members 
of St. Bernard's with his wonted energy. In a 
comparatively short time he had visited every 
family, and, throwing himself with all his ar- 
dour into his pulpit duties, he drew crowds of 
hearers from far and near. It had been felt by 
his friends in the Church and by Scotsmen gen- 
erally that a man of his brilliant powers ought 
not be stranded on the shores of the Firth of 
Clyde, but that he should be in the centre of the 
thought and life of the country, so that his 
influence might be felt by a wider circle. In 
Edinburgh such possibilities existed, and the 
many who remember his preaching and his 
fourteen years of active ministerial work in 
St. Bernard's, know how these possibilities were 
taken advantage of to the very fullest. Not 
only did he keep together the large original 
congregation of St. Bernard's, maintain 
in perfect working order the many organisations 
in connection with it, and carry out architec- 
tural improvements which cost nearly £2,000, 
but he gathered round him a fresh band of dis- 
ciples, thinkers and eager seekers after truth — 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 27 

among them not a few whose faith was dis- 
tressed, and who found in his sermons the mes- 
sage for which their souls had been waiting. 
Nor did he relax his literary labours, which were 
greatly facilitated by the knowledge which he 
acquired in 1892 of the Braille system for the 
blind which he has found of inestimable value. 
In preparing for the press his practise is to write 
each day in Braille what he deems an adequate 
amount, and on the following day to read off 
this in dictation to his secretary. 

To be a preacher of the first rank is a great 
distinction. It may, however, be shared by 
others. To have at the same time an equal 
reputation as an author is of rare occurrence, 
and this is Dr. Matheson's unique fortune. 
Thousands who never heard him preach have 
read his books. Through them he addresses a 
vast multitude. His reputation, it may be said 
without exaggeration, is not only European, 
but world-wide. A glance at his books shows 
the wide range of his intellectual sympathies. 
In his first work, " Aids to the Study of Ger- 
man Theology," we have the professed theo- 
logian. In his " Natural Elements of Re- 



28 GEORGE MATHESON 

vealed Theology " (the Baird Lecture), " Land- 
marks of New Testament Morality," and 
" The Spiritual Development of St. Paul," he 
sustains the same role. In " The Growth of 
the Spirit of Christianity," " The Lady Eccle- 
sia " and " The Distinctive Messages of the 
Old Religions " we have the student of the 
history of religious thought. In " Can the 
Old Faith Live with the New?" and "The 
Psalmist and the Scientist " we see the cultured' 
Christian Apologist. In " My Aspirations," 
" Moments on the Mount," " Words by the 
Wayside," and " Voices of the Spirit," we dis- 
cover the subtle interpreter of the Devout Life; 
and in his latest and greatest work, " Studies 
of the Portrait of Christ," we have revealed 
unto us the full measure of the man, the limner 
who sees with the eyes of the soul and draws 
with the hand of the spirit. Through all these 
works there plays a strong imagination and a 
subtle fancy, twin children of the muses, and 
these blossom in his book of verse, " Sacred 
Songs," and proclaim him a poet. It is re- 
markable that among all Dr. Matheson's works 
there is not a single volume of sermons. He 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 29 

has steadily, resisted this temptation before 
which so many ministers fall; still, we agree 
with those who think that if he made a careful 
selection of his discourses the volume would 
take high rank and be welcomed by clergy and 
laity alike. The qualities which one finds in 
Dr. Matheson's preaching are equally apparent 
in his published works — originality and lucidity, 
depth of thought lit up by beauty of style, a 
fresh setting of an old truth, a subtle distinc- 
tion followed by a hitherto unseen resemblance. 
All this and much more give that charm to his 
writings which has gained for them so wide a 
popularity. But through them all, varied as 
we have seen them to be, there is a settled pur- 
pose; and a brief consideration of this point 
brings us to what may be termed Dr. Mathe- 
son's theological position. 

We have already referred to two influences 
which were not without their effect in shaping 
Dr. Matheson's intellectual life — environment 
and heredity. We glanced at another — the fresh 
movement in theology which first made itself 
felt in Scottish university teaching during his 
career in the Divinity Hall. But this last was 



3 o GEORGE MATHESON 

itself only the outcome of a deeper and wider 
movement which had been affecting men's 
views in theology for many years. It began 
fully a century ago in Germany, was taken up 
in Britain, and gradually revolutionised the 
standpoint and method of theology as a whole. 
Even the ordinary lay mind is familiar with 
the names of Kant, Hegel and Schleiermacher, 
of Coleridge, Maurice and Robertson of 
Brighton, of Erskine of Linlathen and Mac- 
Leod Campbell. There is much that is differ- 
ent in the writings of these men. They by no 
means belong to the same school. On many 
points that some might regard as most essen- 
tial they may be opposed; but in one thing they 
are agreed — in their breaking away from me- 
chanical and sterile views of religion and in 
their introduction of a new element into the 
study of Divine truth. Without despising or 
discarding the value of history and outward 
evidence, but rather placing these in their true 
relationship, they brought into fuller light the 
significance of personal experience in religion 
and emphasised the nature of its spiritual in- 
wardness as originating in will or thought or 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 31 

feeling, or in all three combined. In any case, 
the religious spirit was liberated from the out- 
ward fetters of dogma, whatever form it may 
have assumed, and was free to face God and His 
self-revelation in nature, history, providence 
and the bible with unveiled face. Dr. Matheson, 
during his student days and his first years at 
Innellan felt the full force of this movement; 
and, while thoroughly loyal to his spirit, his 
aim has all along been to strengthen and ex- 
tend it on the lines of true historical develop- 
ment. Laying hold of the inward essential 
element in religion which goes beneath and is 
common to every variety of creed and school 
of thought, Dr. Matheson is able to do justice 
to all the forms of belief which have manifested 
themselves, not only during the Christian era, 
but since reflection on Divine things began. 
He finds in them broken lights of the true 
ideal of religion as it is found in the Person 
and Life of Christ. Though helpful and in- 
spiring beyond measure as a theologian, it is as 
a great religious teacher we must regard him, 
and religion is above and beyond and beneath 
theology. No profound spiritual thinker has 



32 GEORGE MATHESON 

ever been able or has ever even made the at- 
tempt to put his deepest convictions into the 
language of the schools. Theological termi- 
nology would slay his beliefs, which are of the 
spirit ; and scholastic logic or confessional forms 
and symbols could not express them. We be- 
lieve that this is profoundly true of Dr. Mathe- 
son. He cannot be labelled as a Calvinist or 
Arminian, as a Broad Churchman or Evangeli- 
cal, and be quietly put on the theological shelf. 
He is none of these and yet all — just as religion, 
of which every theological school is a one- 
sided representation, belongs to no school, and 
yet can claim all. The fact is, the spirit of Dr. 
Matheson's teaching goes beneath all outward 
distinctions and divisions of Christian theology. 
He is a great reconciler — the Schleiermacher 
of contemporary theological thought — and 
points out the deeper truth which underlies and 
embraces the broken lights of opposing forms 
of thought. It is accordingly as an inspiring 
force that we must regard him. He may never 
found a school, but he makes many disciples. 
He has probably influenced a greater number 
of young men than any other living preacher. 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 33 

The students of all the theological halls crowd 
round him in Edinburgh. He is the prime 
favourite of the Guildsman, and to be a Mathe- 
sonian is a growing characteristic of many 
of our rising pulpit orators. 

Dr. Matheson, who has never been married, 
lives in Edinburgh. Much of his happiness 
and success is due to his eldest sister, whose life 
has been devoted to him. In private he is one 
of the most genial and simple of men, bright 
and witty to a degree. He has ever a hearty 
welcome for a friend and dispenses hospitality 
with a generous hand. He is only in his fifty- 
ninth year; and though he has the record of a 
full life behind him, this we believe will only 
act as an incentive to the accomplishment of 
greater things in the future. 



Times of Retirement 



" THE ATTRACTIVENESS OF 
CHRIST " 

"Sir, thou hast nothing to chaw with" 

St. John iv. II. 

THE Woman of Samaria has struck the 
marvel in the life of Jesus; He had 
nothing to draw with. The most at- 
tractive figure in the fields of time had no out- 
ward cause for His attractiveness. He says so 
Himself, " I, if I be lifted up, will draw all men 
unto me." His drawing will be proportionate to 
His ^withdrawing, to His shrinking within Him- 
self, to His sacrifice. The greatest compliment 
you can pay to man or woman is to say that 
they attract without adornment. There are 
some who would reveal their birth in any garb 
— in the meanest, in the poorest. You might 
clothe them in rags; you might lodge them in 
hovels; you might surround them with the 
35 



36 TIMES OF 

humblest furniture; but their speech would be- 
tray them to be "not of Galilee." They have 
nothing to draw with, but they themselves 
draw. They may stand before the judgment- 
seat of a Pilate; but their attitude says " I am 
a king." 

So is it with Thee, Thou Son of the Highest. 
Thou hast nothing to attract but Thine own 
beauty. Thou hast put off the best robe of 
the Father; Thou hast assumed the dress of 
the prodigal son. It is in a soiled garment that 
Thou hast solicited my love. Thou hast come 
to me footsore and weary — a man of sorrows 
and acquainted with grief. Thou hast offered 
me no gifts of material glory. Thou hast asked 
me to share Thy poverty. Thou hast said: 
" Wilt thou come with me to the place where 
the thorns are rifest, to the land where the roses 
are most rare? Wilt thou follow me down 
the deep shadows of Gethsemane, up the steep 
heights of Calvary? Wilt thou go with me 
where the hungry cry for bread, where the sick 
implore for health, where the weary weep for 
rest? Wilt thou accompany me where pain 
dwells, where danger lurks, where death lies? 



RETIREMENT 37 

Wilt thou walk with me through the lanes and 
alleys where the poor meet and struggle and 
die? Wilt thou live with me where the world 
passes by in scorn, where fashion pauses not 
to rest, where even disciples have often for- 
saken me and fled? Then is thy love com- 
plete, my triumph perfected. Then have I 
reached the summit of human glory; for thou 
hast chosen me for myself alone, and without 
the aid of earth I have drawn thy heart to 
heaven." 



38 TIMES OF 



A CHAPTER IN INWARD 
BIOGRAPHY " 

" Wherefore gird up the loins of your mind, be sober , 
and hope to the end for the grace that is to be brought 
unto you at the revelation of Jesus Christ." 

ist Peter i. 13. 

THERE were three stages in the life of 
Peter, and unconsciously he repeats 
them here. He began with the " gird- 
ing " — what Christ calls the self-confidence of 
youth. Life stretched before him joyously; it 
seemed a very easy thing. Its sea was a place 
of promenade; men could walk on it; he at all 
events could walk on it. Others might need to 
go round the loch; but he could cross over it; 
" on the banks of Allan Water, none so gay as 
he." Then came the second stage — the " sober- 
ing down." Life stretched before him 
gloomily; self-confidence vanished; despair 
came. Not only could nobody walk on the 
sea; nobody could sail on it. It was all storm, 



RETIREMENT 39 

storm, storm. He put out his hand and cried 
" Save me, I perish; " " on the banks of Allan 
Water, none so sad as he." Then came the 
third stage — the " hoping for a grace beyond." 
Life stretched before him Godwardly. It was 
a new confidence — no longer in self, but in 
heaven. It was the union of aspiration and 
humility. It said : " I am a poor enough crea- 
ture; yet if on life's sea there were not a haven 
for me, I should not be here. God has a place 
for me — if not on the promenade, then in the 
ship — if not in the ship, then in the ferryboat. 
It is coming, it is coming; it will be here by 
and by." 

Even such, my soul, is God's leading of thee. 
At first thou seest Christ without the storm — 
Christ too near, Christ coming apart from the 
clouds. Heaven is so close at hand that earth 
dwindles, and its biggest concerns become 
trifles. Thy Father will not let thee believe 
that ; and so He sends thee a sobering down. 
Thou hast seen Christ without the storm; He 
gives thee a vision of the storm without Christ 
— a vision sore but salutary. It brings thee 
into touch with human grief ; it teaches thee the 



40 TIMES OF 

fellowship that lies in the mystery of pain; bless 
thy Father for the sobering hour. At last there 
comes to thee the reconciling morning — the 
waiting for thy Christ in the storm. Thou hast 
seen thy Christ alone; thou hast seen thy storm 
alone; but the marriage is coming. These feet 
Divine shall touch thy human sea, and the mar- 
riage bells shall ring " It is I ; I and the storm 
are one." Ring out, glad bells, and we shall 
cease to be afraid. It is not less storm we need, 
it is more light. We would not suspend Jacob's 
struggle; let but the day break to tell us he is 
vanquished by an angel's wing. Thou canst 
bear a thousand waves if they claim identity 
with Jesus; the storm will not grate upon thine 
ear if He says " It is I," All grace shall come 
to thee " at the revelation of Jesus Christ." 



RETIREMENT 41 



"THE STRENGTH OF THE HEART" 

"God is the strength of my heart." — Psalm lxxiii. 26. 

WHY is God the strength of the heart? 
Because God is love. The strength 
of the heart is not its steeling, but 
its softening. How am I to bear the spectacle 
of human sorrow ? I am often called to go into 
such scenes, and it tries all my courage. What 
shall be the ground of my courage ; where shall 
lie my strength for meeting the scene? Shall 
I harden my heart? It is quite possible to do 
so. But remember, to harden the heart is to 
weaken the heart. You may purchase im- 
munity from the pain of the spectacle; but it is 
by the administration of chloroform. But I 
will show you a more excellent way — the way, 
not of the heart's weakness, but of its strength. 
There is no power which strengthens the heart 
like the fulness of its own love. There is noth- 
ing which can bear scenes of misery like love 



42 TIMES OF 

itself. Why is this ? It is because all love has 
hope in it. An inferior feeling would be less fit 
to bear. Pity could not bear like love. Pity 
does not mean hope; it sees only the dark side, 
and so it often prompts to flight. But love has 
no despair in it. There is ever a light in its 
valley. It is always accompanied by its two 
sisters — faith and hope; that is why it is the 
strength of the heart. 

Thou Christ of love, none could bear scenes 
of sorrow like Thee. Thy disciples had less 
love; therefore they were more easily over- 
come. " Send her away, for she crieth after 
us " was their plaint to Thee concerning the 
suppliant woman. They had only the pain of 
pity. Their nerves were irritated by the cry. 
They wanted to shut their ears. Thou hadst 
a deeper pain — love's pain — the pain that car- 
ries promise in its bosom. They could not cast 
out the sorrow by reason of their unbelief — un- 
belief in the possibility of the cure. But Thou 
hadst so much love that Thou couldst believe all 
things. Why has the Lord " laid on Thee the 
iniquities of us all " ? Because Thou hadst 
more hardness than others? Nay; because 



RETIREMENT 43 

Thou hadst more love. The strength of Thy 
heart was Thy tenderness; it was its "gentle- 
ness that made Thee great." All the genera- 
tions pressed upon the bridge, and the bridge 
was not broken. Why? Not because it was 
made of iron, but because it was made of velvet. 
Thy love could bear all things because it could 
believe all things. It could go before us into 
Galilee — into all the Galilees of human pain. 
It could outstrip us on the road to succour 
earthly need, for it was, it is, the very strength 
of God. 



44 TIMES OF 



" THE POSTPONEMENT OF THE 
BEATIFIC VISION " 

" They drank of that spiritual rock which followed 
them." — ist Corinthians, x. 4. 

IT is ever so. The blessing of our good 
deeds does not accompany them; it fol- 
lows them. It often seems at the time 
as if they were done in vain. Our good actions 
appear for the present to have a death in the 
desert. You give a coin to a beggar who seems 
to be starving. He thanks you profusely. You 
watch his receding form, and see him vanish 
into the first gin-shop. You say " my charity 
has all gone for nothing." No; it is only your 
money that has. Do not identify your money 
with your charity. The one, through the force 
of long habit, may be spent in an ale-house 
within five minutes; the other may be laid up 
in the heart for years, and bear rich interest 
after many days. I have seen a kind advice 



RETIREMENT 45 

bring forth at the time only a storm of temper ; 
but on the morrow it was weighed and accepted. 
" Light is sown for the righteous " is a beauti- 
ful phrase. It tells me that I must expect my 
good deeds to lie underground a while. Like 
the disciples, I must begin the journey to Em- 
maus ere I have heard of the risen flower. Yet 
my Christ shall overtake me on the way, and at 
evening, when the day is far spent, the fruits of 
the morning shall abide with me. 

Lord, if Thou wilt go before me, I shall be 
content that Thy goodness and mercy follow 
me. I should not like to postpone obedience 
to Thy command till I can see the good of it. 
There are times when to me, as to Abraham, 
there comes the mandate, " Get thee out of thy 
country into a land which thou knowest not." 
At such times I cry, like Moses, " I beseech 
Thee, show me Thy glory ; let me see the gain of 
Thy command before I go." But Thou sayest : 
" No, my child, / go before; the gain follows. 
I know there are things in the journey to appal 
thee. I have pointed thee to the red heights 
of Moriah ; I have spread for thee the stone pil- 
low of Bethel; I have prepared for thee the 



46 TIMES OF 

lonely peak of Nebo. What then? Wilt thou 
insist beforehand on seeing the ram in the 
thicket? Wilt thou insist on beholding in ad- 
vance the ladder from heaven? Wilt thou in- 
sist on having a previous view of the Promised 
Land? Nay, let my voice to thee precede my 
light. Plunge into the sea, and thy Christ will 
follow. Dive into the night, and the morning 
will follow. Stride into the desert, and the 
world will follow. Thy glory shall come after 
thee. Thy buried Christ shall meet thee in the 
evening. Thou shalt drink at twilight of that 
fountain which was sealed to thee at dawn." 



RETIREMENT 47 



"THE GROUND OF HUMAN HOPE" 

" A promise being left us of entering into His rest." 

— Hebrews iv. I. 

WHAT is my promise of entering into 
rest ? It is not my possessions, but 
my wants. When you ask men the 
ground of their immortal hope they often point 
you to the powers of the human soul — proud 
reason, lofty imagination, clear judgment, far 
memory. That is a vain boast. To the inhabi- 
tant of another star these might seem but the 
movement of a midge's wing. My brother, you 
have mistaken the secret of your true dignity. 
It is not the sense of what you have, but the 
sense of what you have not, that makes you a 
man, that divides you from the beast of the 
field. What do you mean by a "boy of 
promise " ? Not a boy who has reached great 
knowledge, but a boy who wants more knowl- 
edge than he can yet get; we call such "a. 



48 TIMES OF 

promising lad." Your heavenly Father has a 
like estimate — whether for boys or girls, for 
men or women. He measures your promise by 
your wants. Not he that is content with the 
treasures within his door is the Father's prom- 
ising son. It is he that batters on the door and 
cries " Let me out, let me out; it is too narrow 
here, too dull, too lonely." The boy is above 
his environment. He is beyond his playthings, 
but not yet ready for his prizes. He is in the 
desert between Egypt and Canaan. Egypt is 
past ; Canaan is not yet come ; yet his cry is not 
to get back, but to get forward. The land of 
the Pyramids would not please him now. He 
has no rest in all the yesterdays ; he wants some- 
thing from to-morrow. 

My Father, I understand now why it is to 
the " poor in spirit " that Christ promises the 
kingdom. The proof of my royalty is my un- 
satisfied soul. The promise of my rest is my 
Merest. My claim to Thee is my longing for 
Thee. I could not long for Thee if Thou wert 
not in me; my want is the shadow of Thy sun- 
shine. I am the only creature on earth that is 
not content with its environment. The bird 



RETIREMENT 49 

carols all the day, and asks not larger wing. 
The fish swims upon the wave, and desires no 
friendlier bosom. The cattle browse in the 
meadow, and find the meadow ample room. 
But neither the air nor the water nor the land 
has been a rest to me. I have refused to sing 
where the lark sings — outside the gates of 
heaven. I have beat against the bars; I have 
demanded to get in. The gate that bars me 
from Thee has spoiled my song. My want of 
Thee is my prophecy of Thee. Why do I re- 
fuse to sing on the outside of the heavenly 
gate? Because within the gate is my Father's 
house, with its warm fires of welcome, with its 
many mansions of gold. My thirst for Thee 
is the cry for "home, sweet home; " and the 
cry is itself the promise that I shall enter into 
Thy rest. 



50 TIMES OF 



" THE CONGRUITY BETWEEN 

PRAYER AND ITS 

ANSWER " 

" What man is there of you whom, if his son ask 
bread, he will give him a stone?" — St. Matthew vii. 9. 

MY brother, did you never ask bread 
in the hope of getting a stone? Did 
you never say "It is a very profit- 
able thing to pray for the grace of Christ; it 
brings worldly riches " ? And then, when in 
answer to your prayer for bread the stone has 
not come, have you never said something like 
this: " What is the use of being a Christian? 
Where is the profit of my prayers? I have 
never ceased morning nor evening to ask for 
the Spirit of Christ. In darkness and at dawn 
I have not forgotten to bend the knee. From 
the burden of each day I have ever stolen some 
stray moments for my Father. What have I 
gained by it? Nothing. My neighbour across 



RETIREMENT 51 

the street never prays; and year by year he is 
adding to his earthly store. But / have no in- 
crease in the golden stream. The purple and 
the fine linen come not, spite of my prayers for 
grace. The ships are not more laden with my 
merchandise. The orders are not more fre- 
quent at my counting-house. The visitors are 
not more fashionable at my dwelling. I might 
as well be a Pagan for all that I have gained. 
i I have washed my hands in innocency, and 
cleansed my heart in vain.' " 

Be still, my soul; thou hast searched the 
wrong casket for thy gem. Didst thou think 
that thy Father was going to mock thee — to 
send thee a trinket instead of a jewel! Didst 
thou not ask a ring — an adoption ring — the 
right to say " my Father " ! Would it be an 
answer to that prayer if He should start a 
charitable subscription for thee ! Wouldst thou 
be fed by charity when thou art a king's son! 
Thou hast asked admission into His audience 
chamber; murmurest thou that He brings thee 
not into the servants' hall I Thou has asked 
communion with Himself; complainest thou 
that He sends not His vassals to bear His mes- 



52 TIMES OF 

sage! Thou hast asked to see Him face to 
face; weepest thou that He has refused to thee 
a veil! I have read that Mary came to seek 
the dead body of Jesus, and found instead a 
living Lord; and I can understand her glad sur- 
prise. But wouldst thou, my soul, reverse the 
picture; wouldst thou supplicate for a living 
Lord, and mourn because there came not a 
lifeless body! Men say thy sin is pride; nay, 
it is humility. Thou art not ambitious enough, 
not soaring enough. Thine expectation is less 
than thine asking. Thy hope is too modest; 
thine aim is too low. Thou art made for the 
ladder of angels, and thou art content with 
the pillow of stone; lift up thine eyes, O my 
soul! 



RETIREMENT 53 



" THE FIRST RECOGNITION OF 
CHRIST " 

" He came unto His ozvn, and His own received Him 
not. But as many as received Him, to them gave He 
power to become the sons of God, even to them that 
believe on His name." — John i. n, 12. 

THE earliest requirement of Jesus was 
" faith in His name." " Faith in His 
name " meant originally "faith that 
He would make His name." That is ever the 
earliest need of the great — that some one shall 
foresee their future glory. The man of letters 
needs it from his publisher, the artist from his 
academy. And those most hard to convince 
are always " one's own." They are too near, 
too familiar. Have they not seen you walking 
about the streets of Nazareth! Do they not 
know your parents! Are they not passing 
every day your scene of human toil! How 
can one so very accessible be anything great! 
Our relatives may be the most kind to us; but 



54 TIMES OF 

it is outsiders who first discern our promise. 
Who first detected that your little girl was a 
musical genius? A stranger. Her voice was 
too familiar to you to excite wonder. She was 
so much a child of Nazareth, she was so " sub- 
ject to her parents," that the foreign element 
escaped you. Your eye had been so long fixed 
on the casket that you forgot to study the gem. 
But the eye of the stranger caught it. He said : 
"Do you know the treasure which you have? 
Are you aware that this voice will be heard of, 
talked of? Have you realised the pride, the 
privilege of your possession? Are you con- 
scious that you are hiding in your dwelling a 
pearl of great price, that, if the world knew, 
it would gather round your door in hundreds, 
in thousands? Why did you not tell me that 
this was a land of gold ! " 

Jesus, I bless those who trusted Thee before 
Thou hadst made Thy name — who had faith 
in Thy name; the greatest Book in the world 
would never have been published but for them. 
It is easy to praise Thy name now; that is 
knowledge, not faith. The world has gone af- 
ter Thee; all men have bowed down before 



RETIREMENT 55 

Thee. But then Thou wert a tender plant and 
a root out of dry ground. I bless those who 
had sight enough to see Thee. I bless Nico- 
demus who took Thee up when dead. I bless 
Joseph of Arimathea who hoped over Thy 
grave. I bless Magdalene who brought spices 
to Thy lifeless form. I bless the penitent thief 
who saw Thy kingdom on Thy Cross. It was 
only genius that could ' see Thee at such an 
hour. Doubtless, had / been there, I should 
have echoed Pilate's laugh, " Art thou a 
king ! " / began to worship when the world 
began to praise. But the men of the night, 
the men who recognised Thee in the shadows — 
these have the glory. Crown them, for they 
have crowned me. Exalt their memory, for 
they have exalted me. Keep green their wreath 
of fame, for they saw amid the night the gift 
that enriches me. 



$6 TIMES OF 



"THE REVELATION THAT 
RETARDED " 

" And the Lord appeared unto Isaac and said, Go not 
down into Egypt." — Genesis xxvi. 2. 

WE are in the habit of thinking that 
every revelation of God must ex- 
pand our vision. It is a mistake. 
God sometimes reveals Himself by contracting 
our view. It was so here. He appeared to 
Isaac in the form of a stone wall. Isaac wanted 
to branch out — to go into Egypt. Going to 
Egypt was like going to Paris; it was a seeing 
of the world. God said " stay where you are; 
I will not let you go." It was not the sort of 
thing a young man would expect from a Divine 
apparition. If he were told God was about to 
appear to him, he would say in his heart, " I 
shall now be directed to a wider field of enter- 
prise. ,, What would be his astonishment if the 
revelation said, " Go back to your primitive 



RETIREMENT 57 

field, your childhood's field ! " 1 hat is just 
what happened to Isaac. He had planned the 
making of his fortune. He was on the road 
to the land of his dreams — the land of Egypt; 
doubtless he said to himself, " Providence leads 
me." Suddenly Providence appeared and shut 
the door. God said, " Keep where you are — 
in this humble sphere where there are no trap- 
pings of wealth, no flights of promotion, no 
rapid openings into glory; I have decreed for 
you a village life." 

My brother, never let the obscurity of thy 
lot tempt thee to say " my way is hid from 
the Lord." I have heard thee lamenting the 
gates that were closed to thee. Hast thou lost 
an appointment? Our ^appointments are 
often God's appointments. Art thou stretched 
upon a bed of pain while the world sweeps by 
to take your place, to gather your prizes? So 
was it with Jacob on the night of Bethel long 
ago. Doubtless he fretted and fumed, and ar- 
raigned the Eternal Justice ; doubtless he cursed 
the pillow that robbed him of his chance in the 
race. Poor, short-sighted soul! that invalid 
couch was the birth of thy glory. The night 



58 TIMES OF 

that shut thee in secured thine immortality. 
The weariness that prostrated thee lifted thee 
into fame. The sleep that overwhelmed thee 
redeemed thee from oblivion. Thy silent hour 
was thy most crowded hour. Men said, " he is 
buried underground; " so is the railway train 
when it makes leaps in its journey. Thine un- 
derground moments have been thine accelerated 
moments. Not by thy days of earthly splen- 
dour shall the world remember thee. Not by 
thy triumphs in the chase, not by thy tradings 
in the market-place, not even by thy patriarchal 
birthright, shall men preserve the memory of 
thy name. Thou shalt be known by that in- 
valid couch, where, in the midst of thy proud 
career, thy Father's message barred thine on- 
ward way. 



RETIREMENT 59 



"THE REVELATION THAT 
REWARDED " 

"And the Lord appeared unto Isaac the same night." 

Genesis xxvi. 24. 

CC A PPEARED the same night"— the 
/V night on which he went up to Beer- 
sheba. Do you think this revelation 
was an accident? Do you think the time of it 
was an accident? Do you think it could have 
happened on any other night as well as this? 
If so, you are grievously mistaken. Why did 
it come to Isaac in the night on which he 
reached Beersheba? Because that was the 
night on which he reached rest. In his old 
locality he had been tormented. There had been 
a whole series of petty quarrels about the pos- 
session of paltry wells. There are no worries 
like little worries, particularly if there is an 
accumulation of them. Isaac felt this. Even 
after the strife was past, the place retained a 



60 TIMES OF 

disagreeable association. He determined to 
leave. He sought change of scene — a spot 
where there would be nothing to remind him of 
the old troubles. He pitched his tent away 
from the place of former strife. That very 
night the revelation came. God spoke when 
there was no inward storm. He could not 
speak when the mind was fretted; His voice 
demands the silence of the soul. Only in the 
hush of the spirit could Isaac hear the garments 
of his God sweep by. His still night was his 
starry night. 

My soul, hast thou pondered these words, 
" Be still, and know " ! In the hour of per- 
turbation thou canst not hear the answer to 
thy prayers. How often has the answer seemed 
to come long after ! The heart got no response 
in the moment of its crying — in its thunder, 
its earthquake, and its fire. But when the cry- 
ing ceased, when the stillness fell, when thy 
hand desisted from knocking on the iron gate, 
when the interest of other lives broke the 
tragedy of thine own, then appeared the long 
delayed reply. Why so long delayed? Be- 
cause it is only in the cool of the day that the 



RETIREMENT 61 

voice of the Lord God is heard walking in the 
garden. Would'st thou hear that voice, O my 
soul? Get thee up to Beersheba — up to the 
land of rest. Did not thy Lord before distribut- 
ing the loaves " command the multitude to 
sit down "! Thou too must sit down ere thou 
canst be fed. Thou must rest if thou wouldst 
have thy heart's desire. It comes not to the 
heart on the wing. Cease thy migrations. 
Pause in thy flight. Arrest thy wanderings. 
Still the beating of thy pulse of personal care. 
Hide thy tempest of individual trouble behind 
the altar of a common tribulation. And, that 
same night, the Lord shall appear to thee. 
Heaven shall open to the dove-like spirit. The 
rainbow shall span the place of the subsiding 
flood; and in thy stillness thou shalt hear the 
everlasting music. 



62 TIMES OF 



" SPIRITUAL PRESERVATION 

" Who are kept by the power of God through faith 
unto salvation ready to be revealed in the last time." 

i Peter i. 5. 

I UNDERSTAND St. Peter to mean " we 
are kept from going wrong by the 
power of looking forward — by faith in 
the nearness of a coming revelation." Nothing 
hinders the sustaining of goodness like monot- 
ony — the want of a prospect. It is easier to be 
good at the beginning than in the middle. 
Why? Not because the middle has more dan- 
gers, but because it has less freshness, " while 
the bridegroom tarried they all slumbered and 
slept." Peter himself is the finest example of 
this. He was always courting danger. Why? 
Because he felt that a monotonous life would 
lead him into temptation. A monotonous life 
does not mean a want of something to do, but 
a want of something to think of. I do not agree 
with Dr. Watts' lines : — 



RETIREMENT 63 

" Satan finds some mischief still 
For idle hands to do." 

It is not the idle hands, but the idle minds, 
that are in danger. I should say the dreams 
of youth are times of idle hands; but I should 
not regard them as special seasons of tempta- 
tion. The mind is then full. There is a vision 
of glory everywhere. Faith is singing in every 
meadow; hope is budding in every flower; love 
is shouting over the withered autumn leaves 
" O death, where is thy sting; O grave, where 
is thy victory ! " 

Let me dream again, O Christ; revive for 
me the vision of the morning. It may have 
been a time of idle hands; but it was Elijah's 
chariot to me — it held me aloft, it kept me pure. 
Canst Thou give me back my vanished youth ? 
Yes; what is Thy Life Eternal but vanished 
youth restored ! The thing which kept me pure 
in the morning was always the vision of the 
evening — the golden sky that should come with 
ripest years. Renew that vision, O Christ. 
Why should my nature droop because I recede 
from the morning? Was not my glory always 
in the west; did not I ever say " at evening 



64 TIMES OF 

time there shall be light " ? It was always to 
" the last time " that I looked for my revelation 
of glory. Let me look again,., It was always 
the west that made the east so charming; my 
morning was lighted by the evening star. Light 
me still by that star, O Lord. Lift me out of 
the mid-day by the vision of the climax. Give 
me something to look forward to. Break the 
monotony of the stream. Renew the rainbow 
in the waters. Draw aside the curtains of the 
golden west, and let faith look through. My 
feet shall be kept from the mire when I see the 
good time coming. 



RETIREMENT 65 



" GOD'S PLACE FOR ADVERSITY " 

" What profit is it that we have walked mournfully 
before the Lord of hosts? " — Malachi iii. 14. 

THERE is no profit in walking mourn- 
fully. All the profit a man ever gets 
is from his joy. The advantage of 
the fires of sorrow does not lie in the things 
which they consume, but in the things which 
they cannot consume. The sweetest of all the 
uses of adversity is to show me the joy which 
it cannot take away. There is a substance 
which fire will not destroy; it is like the bush 
Moses saw in the wilderness. I could never 
have its quality proved except by fire. Yet the 
blessing is not the fire, but the unconsumed- 
ness. Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego 
passed through the furnace and got no hurt. 
What was to them the benefit of the furnace? 
Precisely the limit of its power — what it could 
not do. Doubtless in things not vital there was 



66 TIMES OF 

damage done. The men were cast in bound 
and they came out loose; there was destruction 
to the environment. But it was not this that 
made the furnace beneficial. It was the un- 
touched thing, the unsinged thing, the un- 
harmed thing. The glory of the furnace was 
its failure. The glory of all sorrow, where it 
has glory, is its failure. I could not praise the 
setting of the sun if it did not bring out the 
beauty of the evening star. 

My soul, why deemest thou that thy grief 
is pleasing to thy Father! There is nothing 
pleasing to thy Father but thy joy. What He 
searches for in thy heart is not the pain, but 
the pearl. He longs to see the tenacity of thy 
joy — its inability to be extinguished. Why 
was Jesus His well-beloved? Because He was 
the man of sorrows? Nay; but because all His 
sorrows could not quench His joy. Hast thou 
not read that under the shadow of the cross 
He cried " my peace I give unto you " ? That 
peace, not the pain, was the Father's pearl. It 
was not the cloud of Jesus, but the bow in His 
cloud, that made His Father glad. So it is with 
thee, O my soul. Why does thy Father send 



RETIREMENT 67 

thee the cloud? To test the immortality of 
thy joy, to prove whether the bow can abide in 
the flood, to see if the dove can live on the 
waters. Why bring Him the willow when He 
craves for the rose? Why send Him the cy- 
press when He seeks for the laurel ? Why offer 
Him the dirge when He asks for the song? 
He shades thy sun, not to see thy night, but to 
see thy candle — thy innermost source of joy. 
He appreciates thy bearing of grief because it 
is joy alone can bear. Thy fires to Him never 
become cleansing till He sees the gleam and 
glitter of the golden chain. 



68 TIMES OF 



" SATAN'S CHOICE OF A LOCALITY " 

Tempted of Satan in the wilderness." — Mark i. 13. 

WE are apt to think that Satan is most 
powerful in crowded thoroughfares. 
It is a mistake. I believe the temp- 
tations of life are always most dangerous in the 
wilderness. I have been struck with that fact in 
Bible history. It is not in their most public 
moments that the great men of the past have 
fallen; it has been in their quiet hours. Moses 
never stumbled when he stood before Pharaoh, 
or while he was flying from Pharaoh; it was 
when he got into the desert that his patience 
began to fail. David never stumbled while he 
was fighting his way through opposing armies; 
it was when the fight was over, when he was 
resting quietly under his own vine, that he put 
forth his hand to steal. The sorest tempta- 
tions are not those spoken, but those echoed. 
It is easier to lay aside your besetting sin amid 



RETIREMENT 69 

a cloud of witnesses than in the solitude of 
your own room. The sin that besets you is 
never so beseeching as when you are alone. 
You may say kind things in public to the man 
you hate; but you make up for it in the wil- 
derness. It is our thoughts that hurt us; and 
we think most in solitude. Many a man who 
resists the temptation to drunkenness at the din- 
ner-table is conquered at the secret hour. Paul 
says that the Christian armour is most needed 
after we have vanquished the outward foe, 
" that ye may be able to withstand in the evil 
day, and, having done all, to stand." 

O Thou, who alone hast control over my 
thoughts, help me in the wilderness. Others 
can help me in the market-place. Others can 
advise me at the festive hour. Others can re- 
strain me at the meeting of the multitude. But 
Thou alone canst help my wilderness. And it 
is there that I need Thy keeping, O Lord. I 
speak often of retiring from the vanities of life; 
yet it is in retirement that the vanities of life 
most come to me. My vain world is in my soul ; 
the artist that paints it is my own heart. It is 
not when I go to the marriage feast of Cana 



7 o TIMES OF 

that I have most need of Thee; it is when I 
hear the music and the dancing, and, through 
envy of my brother, refuse to go in. This is 
my moment of worldliness because this is my 
desert moment — my separation from human 
sympathy. Meet me in my desert, O Christ, for 
it is my world of vanity. Meet me in my hour 
of separation from human interests. Meet 
me when I have lost the voices of the crowd. 
Meet me when I walk in the wilderness and 
strive to forget the cities of men. Meet me 
when I despair of the outer world, when I 
malign its streets and gates, when I despise its 
courts and palaces. The contact with my 
brother man will break the worldliness of the 
wilderness; dispel that wilderness, O Lord. 



RETIREMENT 71 



" A GROUNDLESS FEAR OF GOD " 

" Edom refused to give Israel passage through his 
border." — Numbers xx. 21. 

THE world has all along been refusing to 
let Christ through. It has never had 
room for Him within the inn; it has 
relegated Him to the manger. It wants Him 
to be kept apart. It is willing to visit Him 
occasionally in the manger — even, at times, 
to bring a little gold and frankincense. But 
it does not wish Him to become a force in its 
own affairs. Why so; what is it afraid of? 
The same thing which Edom feared. Edom 
was afraid that the hordes of Israel would tear 
up her cultivated fields and destroy her na- 
tional produce. The world fears that Christ will 
tear up human instincts and make men un- 
natural. The world is wrong; we are never 
so natural as when we are Christians. What 
kills naturalness is self-consciousness; it makes 



72 TIMES OF 

us either too confident or too shy. When I 
am too confident I am thinking about myself; 
when I am too shy I am equally thinking about 
myself. In both cases the mirror of myself is 
the prominent thing. What will break the 
mirror? A larger environment. Why are 
travelled people so nice? It is because they are 
so natural. And why are they so natural? 
It is because their eyes have rested on a wider 
sphere. They have forgot their own great- 
ness; they have forgot their own humility; 
they have forgot to think about themselves 
at all — they have smashed their mirror. 

So shall it be with thee, my soul, if thou 
wilt let Christ in. Thou shalt become for 
the first time perfectly natural. Thou shalt 
be a travelled man — the most travelled of all 
men. Before thee shall stretch the general as- 
sembly of the firstborn — the biggest scene in 
the universe. The things around thee shall 
lose their importance either as a cross or as 
a crown. Thou shalt forget to be proud, thou 
shalt forget to be humble. There shall come to 
thee a larger love, which shall destroy both 
vaunting and shrinking. Perfect health neither 



RETIREMENT 73 

says 

consciousness of its own breathing. So shall 
it be with thee when Christ shall enter in. 
Thou shalt become spontaneous, natural, free. 
Thine shall be the singing of the brook, the 
warbling of the bird, the kindling of the flower. 
There shall be no pausing for effect, no posing 
for attitudes, no angling for favour, no trying 
to seem. No more shalt thou study the right 
thing to say; it shall be given thee in the mo- 
ment — love's moment. Thy goodness shall be 
grace — something native to thy life. Thy 
kindness shall be instinctive — born in thy blood. 
Thy sacrifice shall be unconscious — part of thy 
being. Thy service shall be easy — an expres- 
sion of thine own heart. It is sin that has 
made thee unnatural; thou shalt be a child of 
nature again when thou hast let Christ in. 



74 



TIMES OF 



" THE HOTTEST PART OF LIFE'S 
FURNACE " 

"Jesus suffered without the gate. Let us go forth 
therefore unto Him without the camp, bearing His re- 
proach." — Hebrews xiii. 12, 13. 

THERE are two kinds of sorrow in this 
world. There is a sorrow which is 
incurred in the path of duty — a sor- 
row within the gate, within the camp. It con- 
sists in a soldier's fatigues, in a soldier's 
wounds. But there is a sorrow which seems 
to debar from the path of duty — which comes 
to us outside the gate, outside the camp. It 
consists in a soldier being stricken by sickness 
ere the campaign opens, held back from the 
service of his country. When this latter hap- 
pens to any of us we are very perplexed in 
mind; we seem to have been thwarted by 
heaven. We feel as if our fellow-men were 
reproaching us for being cast upon their hands, 



RETIREMENT 75 

blaming us for being a burden to the world. 
The sorrow in the path of duty could be toler- 
ated; but it is hard to bear that sense of re- 
proach which comes from the sorrow outside 
the camp. 

My afflicted brother, the writer of this pas- 
sage has a great comfort for you. He says 
that Christ's case was one like yours. He bids 
you in such moments of depression to come into 
the Garden of Gethsemane. There you will see 
a sufferer whose sorrow was outside the camp. 
He bore ho visible wound, no mark of shot or 
shell. He carried no scar that told of battle 
won. It seemed to those around Him that He 
had never joined the battle. He bore the re- 
proach of being a burden on the world, of do- 
ing nothing to win the kingdom for humanity, 
of leading a life useless to man. Yet, my 
brother, no service was ever like the service of 
that sick-bed. In His seeming uselessness He 
was doing gigantic work, herculean work, 
world work. When I want to measure His 
work I go to the Garden — the place of seeming 
uselessness. I do not go to His crowded 
moments — to the multitude that thronged His 



76 TIMES OF 

breaking of bread, to the concourse that swelled 
His audience on the Hill. No; I go down to 
His lonely hour — I and the world together. 
I and the world magnify that moment when 
men said He was laid aside, shunted, left be- 
hind. We find it the brightest day of all His 
golden year. We crown Him with the flowers 
of His Gethsemane; we load Him with the 
wreaths of His Calvary; we keep as His natal 
day the night on which He was betrayed. Ye 
who are suffering outside the camp, rest with 
Him in the Garden awhile. 



RETIREMENT 77 



" CHRISTIAN EMULATION " 

'- Even so ye, forasmuch as ye are zealous of spiritual 
gifts, seek that ye may excel to the edifying of the 
Church." — i Cor. xiv. 12. 

CC^jEEK to excel." What a strange pre- 
j/^ cept for a gospel of love ! Is not the 
wish to excel, a very bad thing? Is 
it not the root of most of the evil in the world? 
Is it not the cause of jarrings and jealousies 
and jostlings ? Does it not raise heart-burnings 
different from those of the disciples on the 
road to Emmaus ? Yes ; but look at the passage 
again. Look at the reason given for the pre- 
cept : Forasmuch as ye are zealous of spiritual 
gifts. Paul says if they had been zealous for 
material gifts he would have given very dif- 
ferent advice. To excel in a material gift means 
to excel others. The possession of outward 
fame depends on your superiority; the beauty 
of a particular type of face lies in its rarity. 



78 TIMES OF 

But to excel in spiritual gifts is not to excel 
others; it is to surpass our former selves. The 
value of a spiritual gift depends on its diffusive- 
ness — on the number of people that have it 
besides myself. Joy dies unless it is shared. 
Love breaks the heart unless it is reciprocated. 
Knowledge makes a solitude if it is possessed by 
one alone — the solitude of the Son of Man. The 
gold of the outward world is precious 'from its 
scarcity; but the gold of the kingdom of God 
grows precious as it becomes ample. 

My soul, wouldst thou know whether thy 
gift is spiritual or temporal? Ask thyself the 
question, Why do I wish to excel in it? Is it 
that men may say, " He walketh among the 
golden candlesticks; he is the chief among ten 
thousand " ? Then thy gift is temporal — a poor 
fragile, earthly thing. But is it that thou mayst 
make others rich ? Is it that thou mayst share 
with those around thee? Is it that men may 
cease to say of thee, ' He is the chief among 
ten thousand " ? Is it that thou mayst make 
thy brother glad? Is it that thy voice may 
cheer the toiling, that thy song may brighten 
the invalid, that thy reading may instruct the 



RETIREMENT 79 

blind, that thy painted flower may gladden the 
infirmary, that thy music may beguile a sister's 
hour of weariness, that thy poetry may kindle 
the aspiring of drooping souls? Then is thy 
gift spiritual, whatever it may be. Be it stone 
and lime, be it verse and rhyme, be it earth and 
time, if it is meant for " the edifying of the 
Church " it is a gift of the Spirit of God. 



'■•v. 



8o TIMES OF 



" THE REAL WORLD " 

" Who serve unto the example and shadow of heavenly 
things; ' See' saith He, ' that thou make all things ac- 
cording to the pattern showed to thee in the Mount.' " 

Hebrews viii. 5. 

WE speak of the dead as being in the 
land of shadows. " Shades of the 
dead" is a familiar expression; it 
suggests that the next life is an unreal life. 
The view of the writer to the Hebrews is ex- 
actly the opposite. To him the spiritual world 
is the only real world, and the natural world 
is the land of shadows. Instead of the future 
life being a sleep in which we shall dream of 
earth, earth is a sleep in which we dream of the 
future life. We sometimes ask whether we shall 
carry any pictures with us beyond the grave. 
This writer says we have fallen into a strange 
misconception. We think of heaven as needing 
the photographs of earth to wake earthly mem- 



RETIREMENT 81 

ory. He says that earthly objects are themselves 
the photographs of heaven. The Mount of 
God does not need to be made after the pattern 
of the human; the human has already been 
fashioned after the pattern of the Mount of 
God. 

My soul, hast thou weighed the comfort of 
this revelation! Often have I heard thee say, 
" What if the future should be to me a foreign 
land ! " Often have I heard thee ask, " Is there 
anything which man will carry over from earth 
to heaven ? " Hast thou reflected what God has 
carried over from heaven to earth ! Hast thou 
considered that the best within thee is only the 
shadow of something more substantial! Hast 
thou pondered the heavenly origin of things 
which thou callest earthly realities! Thou 
speakest of earthly ties — the ties of family and 
home. Where did these come from? From 
the Fatherhood of God, from the Sonship of 
Christ. Thou speakest of the marriage ring. 
Where did that come from? From the bridal 
supper of the Lamb. Thou speakest of the joys 
of love. Where did these come from? From 
the Love that passeth knowledge. Thou 



82 TIMES OF 

speakest of the sights of beauty. Where did 
these come from? From Him who is fairer 
than the children of men. Thou speakest of 
thy career of ambition. Where did that come 
from? From the Son of Man ascending to 
His Father. O my soul, thou hast mistaken thy 
true home; heaven is thy home. Thou art not 
going to travel at death; thou art travelling 
now. This is thy foreign land. What thou 
callest present reality is but a memory — an 
echo of far-off bells. Death will not reach the 
bells; it will only make thee independent of the 
echo. The distance makes the sound a mere re- 
flection ; thou shalt hear the actual chimes when 
thou shalt reach home. 



RETIREMENT 83 



" CHRISTIAN SIMPLICITY " 

"But I fear, lest by any means, as the serpent beguiled 
Eve through his subtilty, so your minds should be cor- 
rupted from the simplicity that is in Christ." 

2 Cor. xi. 3. 

THE simplicity spoken of is not simplicity 
of thought but simplicity of choice. 
When Christ bids us " receive the 
kingdom as a child '' He is not asking sim- 
plicity of thought. Children are not simple in 
thought. Look at the fearful questions they 
put—" Who made God ? " " Where do the fig- 
ures go when they are rubbed off the slate? " — 
questions for the philosopher, for the scientist. 
But children are very simple in their choice. 
A child never sees more than two alternatives; 
a thing is either good or bad, right or wrong, 
beautiful or ugly. Paul says that in the moral 
world man has lost that simplicity; the ser- 
pent has beguiled him as it did Eve. How did 



84 TIMES OF 

the serpent beguile Eve? By obscuring the 
simplicity of the question at issue. Sin would 
never succeed unless it first obscured the ques- 
tion. Would any man hesitate between God 
and Satan if the simple alternatives were placed 
before him! But then the simple alternatives 
are never placed before him. The lower world 
is always painted in fair colours. It has stolen 
the flowers of Paradise and claimed them as its 
own. I never choose sin because it looks bad, 
but because it looks manly. The danger of 
sin is its counterfeit of glory. Satan in the 
wilderness is quite a Christian. He says to 
Christ, " If you follow me I will help you to 
fulfil your mission more quickly." So speaks 
to all youth the hour of temptation. 

Help me, O Lord, to unclothe the tempter 
— to divest him of his disguise. Much of my 
service to him is an unconscious homage to 
Thee. I mistake the altar on which I lay my 
flowers. I have never said, either with heart 
or lip, " Let me build a temple to Satan." If 
I loved Satan I should have said it long ago. 
But I have loved Thee, and Thee only. I have 
seen in the grounds of the tempter things that 



RETIREMENT 85 

were " pleasant to the eyes; " but they were all 
stolen from Thy garden; their perfume was 
the perfume of Eden. Let me regain the sim- 
plicity of the child's vision — not shallowness of 
view but depth of contrast. Let me cease to 
call duelling an affair of honour, war a military 
glory, atheism a freedom of thought, immor- 
ality a life of pleasure, drunkenness an hour 
of good-fellowship. " Let me cease to clothe the 
bird of night in the plumes of the bird of para- 
dise. Give me the child's uncompromising 
power of choice — " I like this," " I do not like 
that." Let me see the King in His beauty; let 
me behold the slave in his deformity. May 
Thy day have no cloud; may the tempter's 
night have no star. I shall reach the power of 
childhood when I have learned the simplicity 
of a choice betwixt two. 



86 TIMES OF 



" RELIGION AND IMMORTALITY " 

" The dead praise not the Lord, neither any that go 
down into silence. But we zvill bless the Lord from this 
time forth and for evermore." — Psalm cxv. 17, 18. 

I SHOULD be disposed to call this the 
earliest Jewish argument for the immor- 
tality of the soul. I understand the 
Psalmist to mean : " If the end of man were 
death, he would not during life have the instinct 
of praise. A race of mortals destined to noth- 
ing but mortality would be a race silent to re- 
ligion. Men designed for the dust would not 
lift their eyes and their voices in worship. The 
fact that we do lift our eyes in worship is a 
proof that the grave is not our goal." Nor 
does it seem to me that the Psalmist reasons 
badly. Why should man have a faculty above 
his environment ! If he is made exclusively for 
this world, why should he seek another! If 
death ends all, I have a sense here that I do not 



RETIREMENT 87 

need. I need all other of my senses here. I 
need the eye, the ear, the hand, the taste, the 
thrill of joy, the instinct of fear — above all, 
that balance of the whole called common-sense. 
But I do not need the sense of another world; 
it is useless to me, it impedes me. I require the 
earthly hunger to guide me to the earthly food ; 
but if there be no future, where shall the heav- 
enly hunger guide me! Only to the depths of 
despair. Where has that heavenly hunger come 
from? I cry for earthly bread because I am 
prepared for that bread, because that bread is 
prepared for me. But if there be no prepara- 
tion for a future in my soul, why does my soul 
cry for it! Wherefore should an accent of 
praise come from those who go down into 
silence ! 

I thank Thee, O Father, that there is a voice 
within me which contradicts the silence of 
death. I thank Thee for my necessity to pray. 
It is the only gift that comes to me direct from 
Thee. I never got it from the earth nor from 
aught that was earthly. It has been strongest 
in me just where the world was weakest. It 
has come to me most powerfully when the roses 



88 TIMES OF 

have faded and the trees are bereft of their 
green. It has often been the last survivor in 
my soul. It has lived when the world has died. 
It has come to me when the flower has lost its 
perfume and the bird has ceased to sing. Like 
the disciples on the Mount of Transfiguration, 
I have seen Thee when the cloud has fallen on 
all beside; I have seen Thee and I have cried to 
Thee. My cry to Thee has been like the ark in 
the flood; it has risen above a submerged world. 
Therefore, O Father, it is my olive branch of 
peace. It tells me I have something that will 
not die, not go down to silence. My rainbow 
of hope has come from my path of tears; I 
have learned in my tears what things the deluge 
cannot drown. They that praise Thee shall 
praise Thee forever. 



RETIREMENT 89 



" THE PRINCIPLE OF HEAVENLY 
RANK " 

"Every man in his ozvn order: Christ the first- fruits ; 
afterward they that are Christ's." — i Cor. xv. .23. 

THE influence of caste would seem to be 
ineradicable. We are told that God 
has levelled down all men in a common 
condemnation ; yet here we read " every man 
shall rise in his own order." Why not? If 
you were to reduce all men to one level to-day, 
they would be quite unequal to-morrow; the 
best men would come to the front in a few 
hours. " But," you say, " I expected better 
things of heaven. I thought in the other world 
we should be done with all this cutting and 
carving, this separation of masses and classes, 
this raising of barriers between man and man. 
How it disappoints me to hear that a man has 
to keep his own order ! " Nay but, my brother, 
what is the order ? Who are those that are to 



9 o TIMES OF 

stand in front of the throne? It is the men of 
sacrifice — the men who have most power to 
burst the barriers. Christ is " the first-fruits " 
because Christ has gone deepest down. Then 
come " they that are Christ's " — they that have 
washed their robes in the blood of self-forget- 
fulness. Behind them are the rank and file — 
those who are still unfit for service, who them- 
selves need to be served. These are the in- 
valids of the camp; they require to be waited 
upon; they go not forth to battle against sin 
and Satan. In the present world they would 
have been called the people of means, people of 
independence, people who keep attendants; but 
in the coming world the attendants themselves 
are to have the first room. 

Prepare me for my heavenly rank, O Lord! 
Thou hast said that the least shall be greatest 
in Thy Kingdom; prepare me for my coming 
high position. I speak of preparing for death; 
that is an easy thing; I have only to practise 
torpor. But the hard thing is to practise for 
that which makes heavenly greatness. I could 
easily make ready for earthly greatness; I 
should learn to domineer in a week. But to 



RETIREMENT 91 

serve, to help, to minister, to perform menial 
offices, to retire into the shade that another's 
light may shine — that needs a long education. 
I have often wondered why helpful souls are 
taken away by death. I do not wonder any 
more. I leave school when I am fit for this 
world; the ministrant souls leave school when 
they are fit for Thy world; they are the ripest 
fruits of the garden, and they are ripened by 
fire. The front flowers are Thy Gethsemane 
flowers — Thy Passion flowers. My place in 
the New Jerusalem will be determined by my 
conquest of exclusiveness ; and nothing con- 
quers exclusiveness like pain. They who have 
passed through the furnace of earth come out 
to Thee unbound. They are freed from the 
shackles of all caste; therefore they are the 
prime-ministers of Thy Kingdom. 



92 TIMES OF 



" RENEWAL IN CHRIST " 

"He that sat upon the throne said 'Behold, I make 
all things new.' " — Rev. xxi. 5. 

TO make things new is not the same as to 
make new things. To make new 
things is the work of the hand; to 
make things new is the work of the heart. 
Whenever one sits upon the throne of the heart, 
all things are made new. They are made so 
without changing a line, without altering a 
feature. Enthrone in your heart an object of 
love, and you have renewed the universe. You 
have given an added note to every bird, a fresh 
joy to every brook, a fairer tint to every flower. 
The greater part of this world is painted from 
within. Its deepest colours are given to the 
eye by the heart; when the heart grows pale, 
nature grows wan. When Christ sits upon the 
throne of the heart, He brings roses to the field. 
He does not make new things, but He makes 



RETIREMENT 93 

things new. I do not think we are aware how 
much the value of a thing depends upon a 
thought. What is the difference between the 
wound inflicted by the surgeon and the wound 
inflicted by the malefactor? It is a thought — 
the difference between a purpose of pain and a 
purpose of mercy. Such is the change which, 
to me, Christ makes on this world. It is a 
mental change — altering the physical view. 
It is just the difference between a purpose of 
pain and a purpose of love. I once thought the 
ills of life were messages of vengeance — the 
thunderbolts of a vindictive God. But when 
Christ mounted my heart's throne, the thun- 
derbolts became musical. Death was a chariot 
to bear me home. Pain was an operation to 
heal disease. Bereavement was a lifting of my 
treasures to a safer bank. Poverty was the 
test of my love. Clouds were the trial of my 
faith. Surprise was the proof of my patience. 
The fires of life were the cleansing of the golden 
chain. 

O Thou who art seated upon the throne of 
the heart, my knowledge of Thy love has made 
all things fair. The emerald rainbow of my 



94 TIMES OF 

soul has put new lights in the sky. Yesterday 
the whole creation was groaning and travailing 
in spirit; but it was in spirit, not in fact; it 
was a thought in the soul that put sackcloth 
on the sky. To-day there has come a new 
thought to my soul; and creation groans no 
more. The world has caught fire from the joy 
of my love; the heavens declare its glory; the 
earth showeth its handiwork. Not only does 
the day sing it; the very night reflects it. Dark 
places have caught the glow of Thy presence. 
Every valley. has been exalted; service has been 
ennobled, sacrifice has been beautified, patient 
suffering has been reverenced, humility has been 
made regal, self-restraint has been glorified, the 
sharing of sorrow has been called blessed, the 
surrender of the will has been called Divine. 
The virtues of the vale have become the merits 
of the mount ; the poor in spirit have the king- 
dom, the meek have the inheritance, the sacrifi- 
cial have the comfort, the unsatisfied have the 
promise, the merciful have the crown, the peace- 
makers have the royalty, the martyrs for truth 
have the empire over all. Jesus, the very 
thought of Thee has made this world new ! 



RETIREMENT 9S 



" THE SLAVERY WHICH GLORIFIES " 

" Ye are not your own. For ye are bought with a 
price; therefore glorify God in your body, and in your 
spirit, which are God's." — I Cor. vi. 19, 20. 

THIS is the only note of triumph I have 
ever heard sounded over the condition 
of a slave. Is it not a marvellous note ? 
" Ye are not your own; ye are bought with a 
price ; ye are the property of another ; therefore 
glorify your master in your body and in your 
spirit." Can slavery glorify either a servant 
or his master! Can it glorify the body; does 
it not bring weariness ! Can it glorify the 
spirit; does it not bring depression! How 
could Paul thus speak of a slave! Because 
there is one kind of slavery which does glorify 
both the servant and the master; it is love. 
The heart is never glorified till it gets an owner. 
Before that time body and spirit are very list- 
less. But when the owner comes, when love 



96 TIMES OF 

comes, then body and spirit leap up together; 
the eye sparkles; the cheek mantles; the feet 
bound; the laugh rings; the pulse beats quicker; 
the yoke becomes easy, and the burden light. 
There is no homage to the master of a heart like 
the glory of that heart. When it brightens at 
his presence, when it leaps at his approach, he is 
glorified. He would not feel his ownership 
complete if it did not bring this glory, for the 
proof of my mastery over your heart is the 
gleam and glitter of its chain. 

I thank Thee, O Lord, for this one slavery — 
the bondage of my heart. It is the charter of 
my glory. All the beauty of my heart lies in 
its chain; it sparkles most where it is bound. 
Never let there come to me an emancipation of 
the heart. I would have freedom in all else. 
Let the hands be free, let the mind be free, let 
the will be free ; but let the heart ever have its 
chain. Thou whose name is Love, let me ever 
be Thy bondsman. I would not be the bonds- 
man of any power but Thee. There are things 
in which I should always like to be independent. 
I should not like my body to be fettered; I 
should not wish my reason to be bound. But 



RETIREMENT 97 

I should always covet Thy chain — Love's chain. 
I should not wish the independence of the heart. 
I should not like to have nobody to care for. I 
should not desire my affections to escape from 
the cage and be free. Love, Divine Love, Im- 
mortal Love, be Thou the master of my soul ! 



9 8 TIMES OF 



" THE RELATION OF THEISM TO 
CHRISTIANITY " 

"Every man therefore that hath heard and hath 
learned of the Father, cometh unto me." — John vi. 45. 

THE idea is that if a man believe in a per- 
sonal God he ought, if he would be 
logical, to accept Christianity. Every- 
man that has learned of the Father should, in 
strict reason, come to the Son also. There are 
men who call themselves Deists. They say, 
" Have we not a God of nature — a God who 
meets the eye; why supplement that faith by 
a mystery? " Jesus answers " to clear away a 
mystery — the silence of this God of nature." 
The God of nature meets the eye; why does 
not He also meet the ear? Nature, you say, 
teaches you that there is a Father. It is well ; 
but why does not that Father speak? I can 
understand one losing sight of a heavenly 
Father; but I cannot understand one having 



RETIREMENT 99 

Him in sight and yet believing in His silence. 
Can you imagine any father sitting beside his 
little boy from morn to eve and never uttering a 
word? He could not; he would be bound to 
speak. It would be quite immaterial whether 
he said anything nezv. Love rarely does 
say anything new ; but it delights to repeat its 
old things. It is not the revelation that is 
important; it is the revealing, the breaking of 
the silence, the communion of soul with soul. 

And so, my Father, is it with Thee. I do not 
know whether in the voice of Jesus Thou hast 
told me any new secret about the universe. It is 
Thy voice itself that breaks the great secret. 
I have received little light on old mysteries. 
Thou hast told me nothing new about the origin 
of life. Thou hast left unsolved the enigmas of 
space and time. But Thou hast spoken. Thou 
hast said, " I am here; " that is all; but that is 
heaven. I care not so much what Thou sayest 
as that I should hear Thy voice. The revela- 
tion I want from Thee is the revealing of Thy 
love. I care not though it should only tell the 
old, old story. I reck not though it should un- 
bar no secret, though it should unclasp no mys- 



ioo TIMES OF 

tery. Only let it speak — speak truisms, speak 
platitudes, speak repetitions. Only let it 
sound a note in the silence — a note which shall 
say, " I am with you, I remember you, I love 
you." Its reiterations will be the dearest mes- 
sage of all ; its repetitions willl be the sweetest 
message of all; its old, old story will be the 
gladdest message of all. My love will never 
weary of hearing the refrain of Thine; there- 
fore, even though nature had told me all, I 
should still welcome the voice of Jesus. 



RETIREMENT 101 



" A SINGULAR CHANGE OF FASHION " 

" The world is gone after Him." — John xii. 19. 

IT is not often that fashion originates in the 
provinces. It is not often that the metro- 
politan press sustains the reputation of a 
book or singer on the authority of provincial 
journals. It is the lower that take their fashion 
from the higher. Imagine Belgravia eagerly 
enquiring for the latest culture of Bohemia! 
Yet here is a complete transformation of the 
higher by the lower. When Christ came He 
was the opposite of the fashion. Ccesar was 
the fashion. They were the extremes of the 
social ladder. Caesar was proud; Christ was 
lowly. Caesar was sceptred; Christ was 
scourged. Caesar had the crown of empire; 
Christ had the crown of thorns. Yet Christ 
is now at the top, and Caesar is nowhere. That 
is what Paul means by " the fashion of this age 
passeth away." " The fashion of this age " 



102 TIMES OF 

means " the fashion of the Roman Empire." 
We have lived to see it pass ; we have lived to 
see its opposite enthroned. There has come a 
new ideal of manliness — a reversed ideal. The 
chaplet once was woven for the men who strike ; 
it is now wreathed for the men who bear. The 
mountain virtues are the things once called 
poor-spirited — courage in sorrow, meekness in 
trial, mercy in judgment, peacemaking in strife, 
purity in temptation ; these are our patterns on 
the modern mount. 

And they are all from Thee, O Jesus ! Thou 
hast changed the fashion of the world, nay, the 
fashion of my dream. I have come to admire 
what I once despised — all through Thee. It is 
my love for Thee that has changed my standard 
of greatness. It is because I have been down 
with Thee in Gethsemane; it is because I have 
climbed with Thee the steep of Calvary. It is 
not the altered fashion that has glorified Thee; 
it is the glory of Thee that has altered the 
fashion. I pass along the old road and behold 
great changes. I see no decrepit children put 
out to die. I meet no helpless invalids left to 
starve. I encounter no demoniacs walking 



RETIREMENT 103 

neglected amid the tombs. I behold no deaf or 
blind crowding the highway for want of a 
home. I find no slave standing in the market 
for sale. I miss, above all, the streaming 
throng that used to follow the wrestlers in the 
ring. And when I ask, " Where are they all 
gone — these once admiring crowds ? " some pil- 
grim of the way points to the road Thou hast 
taken, and says " the world has gone after 
Him." 



io4 TIMES OF 



" THE ARCHITECTURE OF MAN " 

" For we know that if our earthly house of this taber- 
nacle were dissolved, we have a building of God. Now 
He that hath wrought us for the self -same thing is God." 

2 Cor! v. i, 5. 

I UNDERSTAND the meaning to be that 
man was not made, or " wrought," for the 
present world, but for another world ; we 
are living in a shifting tabernacle, and we have 
the furniture of a permanent building. There 
are three sets of houses with which we come in 
contact; two of them are quite intelligible; the 
third is always a puzzle. There is the small 
house with poor furniture; we know that this 
means the life of toil. There is the large 
house with grand furniture ; we know that this 
means the life of riches. But there is a third — 
the small house with grand furniture ; and this 
mystifies us. There is an incongruity about it. 
We feel that the furniture was not made for 



RETIREMENT 105 

the edifice — that it was meant for another and a 
better edifice. So it is with man. The most 
pronounced feature about him is his incongru- 
ity. He is not a miserable creature; he 
is not a divine being; he is a mixture of both. 
He is a little house with gigantic pretensions. 
The furnishing is quite inappropriate to the 
edifice. The edifice is a shifting tabernacle with 
no permanent resting-place. But in front of it 
there are magnificent grounds laid out — 
grounds which must be lost unless there be a 
permanent building. The grounds are the as- 
pirations in front of reality. We are confined 
within a narrow space ; but we are seeking noth- 
ing less than a Christ. 

Yes, Thou fair Christ, I am in search of 
Thee! From my tiny window I stretch out my 
hands to catch the heavens. It is not only in 
what men call religion that I seek Thee ; all my 
aspirings are aspirings after Thee. In the 
study of art I am seeking Thee; I am in search 
of a perfect beauty. In the reading of fiction I 
am seeking Thee; I am trying to figure a life 
fairer than the children of men. In the love 
of music I am seeking Thee; I am striving to 



106 TIMES OF 

imagine a harmony deeper than that of the 
spheres. Thou art the inappropriate garden in 
front of my tabernacle. Therefore I know that 
I have a building somewhere. I know that 
these permanent grounds would never be laid 
out for a shifting tent. I know that the electric 
light would never have been furnished for a 
house which cannot stay. Thou wouldst not 
build a massive ship if the sea were to be dried 
up. I behold as yet no trace of the waters ; but 
the ship is already here; that is my hope of 
glory. 



RETIREMENT . 107 



" THE VEILING OF GOD'S FACE " 

" He holdeth back the face of His throne, and spread- 
eth His cloud upon it." — Job xxvi. 9. 

A HIDING of God's sovereignty is a start- 
ling thing. We can understand a 
hiding of His beauty, for the beauty of 
the minor chord may only appear in the sym- 
phony. We can understand a hiding of His 
counsels, for we in our ignorance might not 
see the good of them. But we should always 
like to see His sovereignty. The most startling 
thing about the hiding here spoken of is its de- 
liberateness. If it were merely said that man 
cannot fathom God, we should accept it as a 
truism. But it is God Himself who here de- 
signs the unfathomableness. There is a double 
act of concealment. He first " holds back the 
face of His throne," and then " spreads a cloud 
over it." It is an elaborate movement for veil- 
ing; and it disturbs us. But consider what 



108 TIMES OF 

is veiled. Is it really the throne of God? No, 
it is only the face of the throne. The face of the 
throne is that which looks forward; it is God's 
sovereignty seen in advance. He will not re- 
veal that. He will reveal the side of His throne 
— He will give strength for the present need. 
He will reveal the back of His throne — He will 
let us see His providence in retrospect. But 
He will not show us the face of His throne ; He 
spreads a cloud over the future glory. 

And is this not well for thee, O my soul ! Thy 
Father does not wish to compel thee to come in ; 
He would have thee come by thine own will. 
Therefore He conceals the glory. How could 
any man resist the glory — the face of the throne 
of God! Would not such a vision rob thee of 
thy freedom! Who would not climb the hill 
of God if it were always crowned with sun- 
shine ! If there is too much light there can be 
no test of love. It is easy for thee to seek thy 
God when thou seest the rainbow of emerald 
and the blaze of sapphire. But if the rainbow 
were extinguished, if the sapphire blaze were 
quenched, if the face of His throne were cov- 
ered, couldst thou seek Him then? If it were 



RETIREMENT 109 

to be proclaimed that there would be no judg- 
ment-seat, no books opened, no partition be- 
tween the right hand and the left, would virtue 
be to thee still as beautiful? Couldst thou 
choose her in plain attire? Couldst thou love 
her without God's adoption ring ? Couldst thou 
wed her with no material dowry ? Couldst thou 
cherish her with no hope of reward? Couldst 
thou work for her, toil for her, sacrifice for her, 
though through the midnight air there came no 
murmur of the approaching song " Good and 
faithful servant, well done " ? Then hast thou 
vindicated the silence of God; then mayst thou 
bless thy Father that He has held back from 
thee the face of His throne. 



no TIMES OF 



" THE MEN WHO HAVE NO WORK " 

" Sit ye here while I go and pray yonder" — Matt, 
xxvi. 36. 

IT is a hard thing to be kept in the back- 
ground at a time of crisis. In the Garden 
of Gethsemane eight of the eleven dis- 
ciples were left to do nothing. Jesus went to 
the front to pray ; Peter, James, and John went 
to the middle to watch ; the rest sat down in the 
rear to wait. Methinks that party in the rear 
must have murmured. They were in the 
garden, but that was all; they had no share in 
the cultivation of its flowers. It was a time of 
crisis, a time of storm and stress ; and yet they 
were not suffered to work. You and I have 
often felt that experience, that disappointment. 
There has arisen, mayhap, a great opportunity 
for Christian service. Some are sent to the 
front; some are sent to the middle. But we 
are made to lie down in the rear. Perhaps 



RETIREMENT m 

sickness has come; perhaps poverty has come; 
perhaps obloquy has come; in any case we are 
hindered and we feel sore. We do not see why 
we should be excluded from a part in the Chris- 
tian life. It seems an unjust thing that, seeing 
we have been allowed to enter the garden, no 
path should be assigned to us there. 

Be still, my soul, it is not as thou deemest! 
Thou are not excluded from a part of the Chris- 
tian life. Thinkest thou that the garden of the 
Lord has only a place for those who walk and 
for those who stand! Nay, it has a spot con- 
secrated to those who are compelled to sit. 
There are three voices in a verb — active, 
passive, and neuter. So, too, are there three 
voices in Christ's verb " to live." There are 
the active,' wrestling souls, who go to the front, 
and struggle till the breaking of the day. There 
are the passive, watching souls, who stand in 
the middle, and report to others the progress of 
the fight. But there are also the neuter souls — 
those who can neither fight nor be spectators 
of the fight, but have simply to lie down. When 
that experience comes to thee, remember, thou 
are not shunted. Remember it is Christ that 



in TIMES OF 

says, " Sit ye here.' , Thy spot in the garden 
has also been consecrated. It has a special 
name. It is not " the place of wrestling," nor 
" the place of watching," but " the place of 
waiting." There are lives that come into this 
world neither to do great work nor to bear 
great burdens, but simply to be; they are the 
neuter verbs. They are the flowers of the 
garden which have had no active mission. 
They have wreathed no chaplet; they have 
graced no table; they have escaped the eye of 
Peter and James and John. But they have 
gladdened the sight of Jesus. By their mere 
perfume, by their mere beauty, they have 
brought Him joy; by the very preservation of 
their loveliness in the valley they have lifted 
the Master's heart. Thou needst not murmur 
shouldst thou be one of these flowers ! 



RETIREMENT 113 



SPIRITUAL ENVIRONMENT " 



The Lord is round about His people." 

Psalm cxxv. 2. 



{{Fir"! HE Lord is round about His 
people " ; that is the same thing as 
to say " the Lord is the environ- 
ment of His people; " to " be round about " is 
just to " environ. ,, Now the environment is a 
very important thing. There is nothing so sad 
as to be unsuited to one's environment. When 
you take a fish out of the water, it dies. Why ? 
Because the water is its environment. When 
you keep a bird from the open air, it pines. 
Why ? Because the open air is its environment. 
When you debar man from God, he both pines 
and dies. Why? Because God is his environ- 
ment. Man is the only creature in this world 
that does not know what is good for him — does 
not know his own environment. The fish darts 
from the hook that would draw it out of the 



ii 4 TIMES OF 

water. The bird tries to escape from the snare 
of the fowler. But man is very easily led away 
from his water of life, from his native air. He 
quits the real water for a painted imitation of 
it, the real air for a bit of coloured space. 
Therefore he is of all creatures the most miser- 
able. He is not happy even when he has noth- 
ing to complain of. It is not enough to have 
nothing to complain of ; I must have something 
to rejoice in. It is not enough to have no pain ; 
I want pleasure. The lower creatures are not 
simply unpained; they are joyous; they dart 
in the water, they sing in the air, they roam in 
the forest — they revel in the glories of the day. 
/ am not like these. 

And yet, my soul, thou mightst be. Thou, 
too, hast an environment. Thou art more envi- 
roned by thy God than the fish is by the water, 
than the bird is by the air. Thy God is all round 
about thee. Other creatures have mostly but one 
element; thy God can be found in all elements. 
His boundlessness is in the water. His infini- 
tude is in the air, His majesty is in the forest; 
thou hast of all others the key to the most doors. 
Wilt thou not take the key, O my soul! Say 



RETIREMENT 115 

not, " I shall be happy in heaven ; " thy God is 
as much here as in heaven. Why speakest thou 
of the limits of earth ! What thou needest from 
earth is not one limit less but one limit more. 
Wouldst thou be quite happy here and every- 
where ? Then must thou be limited by thy God, 
environed by thy God. Thy God must become 
thine element — the water of thy life, the air of 
thy freedom, the fire of thine enthusiasm, the 
land of thy possession. He must beset thee 
" behind " — in memory, " before " — in pros- 
pect, " beside " — in the pressure of the hand. 
He must be thy vanguard and thy rearguard, 
thy right and thy left, thy working and thy 
waiting, thy running and thy rest. Is it not 
written that, when He breathed on man, man 
became a living soul. Thou shalt only find thine 
environment when thou hast caught the breath 
of God! 



n6 TIMES OF 



" DIVINE HEREDITY " 

"Visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the chil- 
dren unto the third and fourth generation of them that 
hate me, and showing mercy unto thousands of them 
that love me." — Exodus xx. 5, 6. 

THE idea is that where there is personal 
virtue evil need not be transmitted. 
" Showing mercy unto thousands of 
them that love me " means " showing mercy to 
thousands of those who would naturally be the 
victims of heredity." It is no use for a man to 
say, " I am bound to be a drunkard; my father 
was a drunkard." Every man is heir to two 
streams — a heredity of sin and a heredity of 
grace. But the stream of grace is the older. 
You may prove to me that my father had a 
weak will, that my grandfather had a weak will, 
that my great-grandfather had a weak will. 
But I have an ancestry farther back than that — 
an ancestry which connects me with uncon- 



RETIREMENT 117 

querable power; I have come from a Father in 
heaven. The stream which came to me through 
impure soil was once a mountain torrent — 
stainless, impetuous, free, limpid in its purity 
and sparkling in the sun. Does this count for 
nothing! Is the corruption of the stream 
alone to be propagated ! Is there to be no tend- 
ency to return to an earlier heredity — to the day 
when my ancestral life leapt among the hills 
of God! There was no inebriety then, no 
avarice then, no licentiousness then ; the stream 
was pure from the fountain. Does this count 
for nothing! Is every intermediate hour to 
have its effect, and the first hour to have none ! 
Are all later impurities to be powerful, and the 
original purity to be powerless ! Is the shell to 
catch only the dust of the ground, and retain no 
murmur of the parent sea ! 

My brother, why sayest thou that the hope in 
Christ is not the creed of science ! Why sayest 
thou that it is refuted by the law of heredity! 
Its greatest lever is that law. It is because I be- 
lieve in heredity that I believe in Jesus. It is 
because I see Him with qualities not derived 
from the common soil that I know there must be 



n8 TIMES OF 

a higher Father. And that, my brother, is my 
hope for thee. Thou art bemoaning thine an- 
cestral corruption; thou art lamenting the 
taint in thy blood. God offers thee a trans- 
fusion of new blood — the blood of the Lamb. 
Hast thou not read " There is a river whose 
streams make glad the city of God " ! The 
streams of the river are the heredity of the river. 
Wouldst thou have the river of thy life made 
glad ; look up to the streams. Why is thine eye 
fixed only on its lower reaches where the mud 
and mire began to gather ! The streams were 
limpid, the streams were pure, the streams were 
fresh from God. Return to thy source : rise to 
thy beginnings; mount to the uplands where 
the fountain fell! Yield to no passion of the 
hour even though it came from thy fathers; 
thou hast another Father, a higher Father, an 
earlier Father. Thy heart and thy flesh may 
have fainted and failed through ten genera- 
tions; but the strength of thy heart lies behind 
all generations, and will conquer in the end. 
The river may have come from thy fathers; but 
the fountain of thy life was with God. 



RETIREMENT 119 



" THE PLACE OF HUMAN EFFORT IN 
RELIGION " 

"And the Lord said unto Moses, wherefore criest 
thou unto me? Speak unto the children of Israel, that 
they go forward." — Exodus xiv. 15. 

THERE is a time when the best service of 
God is not prayer but action. God 
says to Moses, " Why spend your time 
in crying for Divine help when there are hu- 
man hands fit for the work ; instead of speaking 
to Me, speak to the children of Israel, that they 
go forward." Moses had always been lethargic 
about action; his natural meekness may have 
been want of energy. He seems to have ex- 
pected a purely Divine interference — a bolt 
from the blue, or an earthquake, or a legion of 
angels ; his vision of the burning bush doubtless 
to him suggested something drastic. He per- 
haps even thought it wrong to use physical 
means. Ought not God to have all the glory! 



120 TIMES OF 

If God willed that the children should recover, 
there was no use for a doctor. If God was their 
natural preserver there was no need for vaccin- 
ation. There was a short road to the land of 
Canaan — the Divine road ; why take the human 
way! God answered, Because it is the long 
way ; because it requires more time and trouble, 
and therefore more faith and love. And so 
God answers still to every soul that asks why 
He has made life so difficult. He says, " It is 
better to gain than to get; it is better to win 
than to wear ; it is better to conquer your pos- 
session than to carry it, unresisting, home." 

I thank Thee, O Lord, that Thou hast led me 
towards the land of Canaan by the long way. 
With Thy full presence I could have reached it 
in an hour ; but then, I might have lost it in an 
hour. I should not have been fitted for it, 
trained for it, educated for it. I thank Thee 
that on my pilgrimage Thy face has been veiled 
to me. If Thy power had been perfectly active 
I should have had nothing to do. I might have 
closed the hospitals, the infirmaries, the houses 
of refuge. And the closing of my care would 
have been the closing of my love. The invalids 



RETIREMENT 121 

would have been cured at my expense — at the 
expense of all that is good in me. I should 
have had no room for pity, no place for solici- 
tude, no corner for care, no margin for human 
sacrifice. I should have had neither Martha's 
portion nor Mary's — neither the working nor 
the waiting. But, O my Father, I bless Thee 
that Thou hast left me room for both — room to 
work and room to wait — human power and 
human patience. I bless Thee that there is 
silence enough in heaven for my voice to be 
heard on earth. I bless Thee that the veil of 
Thy temple has not been wholly rent in twain. 
If it were, Thy light would dispense with my 
faith, Thy force would supersede my acting, 
Thy will would prevent my effort, Thy sacrifice 
would make useless my love. I will praise 
Thee for the rim of darkness round Thy sun — 
that Thou hast sent Israel's children by the 
lengthened way ! 



122 TIMES OF 



"THE REVELATION OF HEAVEN 
THAT COMES FROM EARTH " 

"If they hear not Moses and the prophets, neither 
will they be persuaded, though one rose from the dead." 

Luke xvi. 31. 

JESUS does not mean that a man would 
not be persuaded of a future life if a de- 
parted soul were to reappear. That 
would not be true; and Jesus never says what 
is not true. It would be a direct refu- 
tation of His teaching; is not the power of 
His own resurrection just the fact that it is a 
message from the dead! But you will get a 
flood of light on the passage if you ask, What 
did the rich man in this parable need to be per- 
suaded of? What was he in doubt about dur- 
ing life? The existence of God? The exist- 
ence of a heaven? The existence of a hell? 
There is no evidence of any such scepticism. 
What he did doubt was the eternity of love. 



RETIREMENT 123 

He allowed a miserable beggar to lie at his 
gates uncared for, and to be fed by the acci- 
dental crumbs which fell from his table; the 
dogs showed more humanity. When he got 
into the future life he found that he was 
unfit for it. It was a life of ministration ; and 
he had never learned to minister. He said, " I 
am tormented in this place ; " he felt deserted, 
unbefriended, alone. He thought if a dead man 
were to appear to his five brothers on earth it 
would help them to be charitable. Jesus says it 
would not. He says the spirit of love cannot 
be created from the outside. No opened 
heavens will give it; no sights of beauty will 
give it ; no scenes of horror will give it ; it must 
exist within. 

My soul, why complainest thou of the silence 
beyond the grave! It is not from beyond the 
grave that thy revelation of heaven must come. 
If the essence of heaven were beyond the grave 
there would be openings in the cloud every day 
to let thee see through. But the essence of 
heaven is below, within. Wouldst thou find 
the river of its life; cry not for the wings of a 
dove to bear thee upward. Not in the scenes of 



124 TIMES OF 

mystery shalt thou find that river. Thou shalt" 
only reach it in the commonplace street where 
Moses and the prophets dwell. While thine 
eye is on the stars thou art missing thy revela- 
tion. Lazarus is lying at thy gate — broken, 
afflicted, desolate. Israel's children are lying at 
thy gate — outcasts from the Egypt of civiliza- 
tion, foundlings picked up from the gutters of 
the Nile. Moses calls thee to save them; the 
prophets call thee to save them; the burning 
bush calls thee to save them. Wilt thou hear 
Moses and the prophets and the burning bush ? 
Then hast thou reached the very essence of 
heaven — love. Wouldst thou tell thy five 
brothers that they are immortal ? Thou needst 
not send a message from the tomb. Show them 
the power of love. Show them the power that 
here and now can make a man live outside 
his own environment. Show them the life that 
can find itself by loss, raise itself by burial, 
clothe itself by divestiture, enrich itself by 
poverty, glorify itself by lying in the dust. 
Then shalt thou ask no more a voice from the 
grave. 



RETIREMENT 125 



" INSTINCT AND REASON " 

"Faith is the evidence of things not seen." 

Hebrews ri. I. 

SWALLOWS which have never seen a for- 
eign summer migrate toward that sum- 
mer. How do they know of its exist- 
ence? They have no personal memory; their 
parents have no words by which to tell them; 
how do they know to travel toward sunny skies 
of which they have had no experience? In 
other words, what is their evidence of things 
unseen? Would you be shocked if I said it 
was faith. Indeed I can give no better an- 
swer. These swallows are moved by an im- 
pulse which they cannot explain, which I can- 
not explain. Perhaps a magnetic influence at- 
tracts them in one direction. Perhaps the 
image of a summer sky is imprinted on the 
retina. Perhaps they move by a simple feeling 
of unrest. In any of these cases it is what in 



126 TIMES OF 

the spiritual world I call faith. It is an impulse 
beyond present experiences leading the bird to 
anticipate a coming experience. In the case of 
the swallow the truth of the impulse is proved ; 
it lives to reach the summer to which it flies. 
But suppose it always died before reaching the 
goal, it would then be like you and me. We 
also have an impulse to fly beyond our environ- 
ment. We are born in the winter, and in the 
winter we die. Yet we are ever seeking a sum- 
mer we have never seen — a summer which is 
not here. Generation after generation pursues 
its flight to the unknown land of light and 
warmth. Each drops weary by the way; but 
its successor resumes the wing. It is faith's 
wing. No swallows have come back to tell us 
of the summer sky ; but still we fly persistently 
— through cold, through dark, through storm, 
through rough blasts of obloquy, through chills 
of contempt, through hours of weakness and 
weariness. Is it not a most unreasonable 
flight? 

Yes, my brother, there is no reason in it; 
it is higher than reason-^-it is instinct. In all 
prophetic things, trust thy faith before thy 



RETIREMENT 127 

reason. Reason is against the migration of the 
swallows; reason is against the labours of the 
bee; it would be easy to demonstrate, from 
reason, that both were in a delusion. Yet the 
swallow has proved right; the bee has proved 
right — right by instinct. Thou, too, hast an in- 
stinct, my brother; it is called faith. Reason 
has taken many of thine instincts away. But 
she has left thee this one — the prophetic power 
of the swallow, the prophetic power of the bee. 
To thee, as to the swallow, God has given an 
impulse of unrest — a necessity to migrate to- 
wards skies thou hast not seen. To thee, as to 
the bee, God has given the impulse to seek a tab- 
ernacle of which thou hast no experience — the 
dwelling-place of the Most High. I hear men 
speak of songs of the season. Thou hast a song 
before the season — a song which is in vogue 
among the angels. There bloom in thy heart 
flowers that are not yet in thy ground. The 
bird of the air sees the storm before it comes 
and flies from It; thou seest the calm before 
it comes, and fliest to it. Faith is thine evidence 
of things not seen. 



128 TIMES OF 



" LAZARUS BOUND " 

"And he that was dead came forth, bound hand and 
foot with graveclothes ; and his face was bound about 
with a napkin. Jesus saith unto them, Loose him, and 
let him go." — John xi. 44. 

A MAN'S resurrection does not accomplish 
everything. Lazarus had received the 
new life, but he retained the relics of 
the old corruption ; he rose from the dead bound 
with the graveclothes. The command, " Laza- 
rus, come forth ! " had to be followed by another 
mandate, " Loose him, and let him go ! " It is 
ever so. When we are lifted into the life of 
Christ we present at first a most incongruous 
spectacle. We are like Nebuchadnezzar's image 
— one part gold, the other clay. We profess 
to be risen from the dead, and yet we show 
traces of the sepulchre. Old habits linger; old 
weaknesses remain. So far as clothing is con- 
cerned, there is at first no difference between 



RETIREMENT 129 

the risen Lazarus and the dead Lazarus; the 
difference is all within. But that is an enor- 
mous difference. You and I may meet on one 
landing of a stair. Outwardly we are on the 
same level — one height above the ground. But 
our intentions are opposite ; I am coming down 
the stair; you are going up. Mine is a move- 
ment toward the earth; yours is a resurrection 
movement. So was it with Lazarus. He was 
on a level with the past in point of apparel. 
Measuring by the eye you might have said, 
" Judas seems as good as he." But Judas was 
putting on his graveclothes ; Lazarus was about 
to take his off; the one was coming down, the 
other was going up, the stair. 

My brother, do not measure thyself by thy 
garments! Thy garments may be of earth 
long after thy life has come from heaven. Be 
not dismayed that when thou hast crossed the 
Red Sea, when thou hast heard the sound of the 
timbrel, when thou hast listened to the triumph 
of Miriam's song, thou hast not left Egypt all 
behind ! Be not dismayed that beyond the sea 
there lies, not the immediate Canaan, but the 
dry, parched land of the desert! Be not dis- 



i 3 o TIMES OF 

mayed that on thy walk to the New Jerusalem 
thou art met by the unhealed lepers of thy 
heart! Though old tempers rise, though old 
jealousies crop up, though old pride reappear, 
though moments of old doubt return, say not 
that thy faith is vain ! Knowest thou not that 
the enemy lingers in the suburbs after the city 
is taken ! Is it not written, " Awake, thou that 
sleepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ 
shall give thee light ! " Thy light is the last 
thing to be given; it is to follow thy waking, 
to follow thy rising. When thou risest from the 
grave, hand and foot and eye are still bound; 
thou canst not run, thou canst not work, 
thou canst not see. God's first gift to thee is 
the power to feel, yea, to feel pain ; thy new like 
thine old birth is but a child's cry. But the cry 
is the cry of enlargement; the pain is the pain 
of convalescence. Yesterday, the graveclothes 
were no barrier to thee ; to-day, they are ; there- 
fore, to-morrow thou shalt hear the mandate, 
" Loose him, and let him go ! " 



RETIREMENT 131 



" SELF-SURRENDER " 

"As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, except it 
abide in the vine; no more can ye, except ye abide in 
me." — John xv. 4. 

NO individual becomes great by his own 
individuality; he only reaches great- 
ness through the life of another. Why 
is the patriot distinguished ? Because he abides 
in a larger life — the life of his country. Why 
is the philanthropist distinguished? Because 
he is a member of a larger body — the body of 
humanity. Why is the poet distinguished? 
Because he is part of a larger spirit — the spirit 
of nature. The truth is, every one of us only 
begins to live by the act of dying. The branch 
bears fruit because it loses itself in the tree. An 
individual man is glorious in proportion as he 
feels himself to be another. If a branch were 
conscious it would not say "lama branch," 
but "lama tree." If a subject of the Czar 



i 3 2 TIMES OF 

said to a subject of King Edward, " Russia 
would beat England in war," the latter would 
feel sore. Why? Because he has identified 
his own life with the life of England; her tri- 
umph is his triumph, her defeat is his defeat; 
the branch claims to be the tree. So is it with 
the Christian. He makes Christ a personal 
matter — rejoices when He is honoured, weeps 
when He is defamed. I saw a German pro- 
fessor crying like a child over prevailing in- 
fidelity. The world would have wondered; it 
would have said " Nobody is hurting him! " 
He would not have admitted that; the branch 
felt itself to be the tree. 

My soul, hast thou realised the secret of thy 
greatness? It is not thine independence; it is 
thy surrender to another — to Christ — to uni- 
versal Man. It is not even self-denial that will 
make thee great ; what thou needest is not more 
privation but larger enjoyment. I hear thee 
speak of the forgetfulness of self. Yes, my 
soul; but the solemn question is, the manner of 
thy forgetting. How wouldst thou forget; shall 
it be by death or shall it be by life? Thou 
canst forget thyself by chloroform; but that is 



RETIREMENT 133 

not greatness; it is the unconsciousness pur- 
chased by dying. But I know of an uncon- 
sciousness which is purchased by living — living 
in the life of another; it is the thing called 
love. The branch could forget itself by being 
withered ; it prefers to forget itself by being in 
the vine. Get into the vine, my soul! Get 
into the life of another — the other! Feel thy- 
self a member of His body! Identify thy in- 
terests with the interests of Him! Let there 
beat one pulse between thee and thy Lord ! Let 
His grief be thy grief; let His joy be thy joy! 
Let thy prayer be the Lord's Prayer, His six 
golden wishes thy six golden desires in life! 
Let Him and thee join in prayer together — for 
the hallowed Name, for the coming Kingdom, 
for the accepted Will, for the nourishment of 
life, for the reign of mercy, for the end of sin ! 
Thou shalt reach the sleep of God's beloved 
when thy forgetfulness of self shall be the 
remembrance of Jesus. 



134 TIMES OF 



" THE PAIN THAT IS DIVINE " 

"Every branch that beareth fruit, He purgeth it, that 
it may bring forth more fruit." — John xv. 2. 

MAN commonly inflicts suffering 
upon unpromising objects; the 
greatest criminal gets the heaviest 
sentence. But the penalties which God inflicts 
are upon the lives of promise, and because their 
promise gives hope of amendment. Two boys 
are brought before you, both convicted of lying. 
The one has been false all his life ; the other has 
never lied before. You will probably decide to 
punish the first more severely. God's decision 
is the opposite. Instead of two boys, the pass- 
age takes its illustration from two branches. 
The one bears nothing; the other bears 
less than it ought to do. You would think the 
former would be treated more drastically. No, 
it is the latter. The former is simply removed 
from contact; the latter is subjected to severe 



RETIREMENT 135 

discipline. Why? Because the penalties of 
God are proportionate not to the sin but to 
the promise. And, in pursuance of this law, our 
moral pain is proportionate not to the sin but 
to the promise. Paul suffers more inward pain 
than Nero — because he has more goodness in 
him. I never read of Nero beating on his 
breast and crying, " O wretched man that I am ! 
who shall deliver me from this body of death ! " 
He had not love enough; he had not faith 
enough; he had not light enough. The pain of 
Paul came from the life higher than his own — 
the life of the tree. 

No more, then, my brother, canst thou say 
with the men of old time, " He is afflicted ; 
therefore he must be bad." Thou wouldst be 
nearer the truth by the opposite sentence, " He 
is afflicted; therefore he must be good." In the 
moral world it is in fine weather that the glass 
falls. Be not discouraged that the glass falls; 
in the sphere of the heart it means not rain but 
sunshine. Be not dismayed although with each 
peak thou climbest the mist seems to deepen. 
Abraham never saw the mist till he began to 
ascend Mount Moriah. He saw it not in Egypt 



136 TIMES OF 

— where his life was really bad; only in the 
hour of his obedience did there come to him the 
call to sacrifice. Dost thou ask why Abraham 
was afflicted on the mount and Lot left seam- 
less on the plain? Because Abraham was on 
the mount and Lot was on the plain. It is 
whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth ; it is His 
light that makes thy shadow. Tremble not at 
the shadow, fear not when thou enterest into 
the cloud. It is only in thy transfiguration mo- 
ments that God prepares a cloud for thee. It is 
only on the summit of Moriah that He bids thee 
yield thine offering. It is only on thy road to 
Canaan that He shows thee a path through the 
desert. The Father gives hard lessons to His 
promising son. 



RETIREMENT 137 



" THE BURDEN IN HEAVEN " 

"For we that are in this tabernacle do groan, being 
burdened: not for that we would be unclothed, but 
clothed upon, that mortality might be swallowed up of 
life."— 2 Cor. v. 4. 

tl T^TOT for that we would be unclothed." 
I ^ I understand Paul to mean " not 
that we would be unclothed of our 
burdens in the future world." And this is a 
very strange saying. Paul is comparing earth 
with heaven. He says, " In this tabernacle we 
groan, being burdened." We expect him to add, 
" when we get to heaven we shall make up for 
it by a life of ease." On the contrary, he says 
the advantage of heaven will be that we shall 
be able to bear our burdens, " mortality shall 
be swallowed up of life." The burden which is 
a hindrance here will cease to be a hindrance 
there. Why does not Paul rather want to get 
rid of it altogether — to be unclothed of it ? Be- 



138 TIMES OF 

cause he sees a use for it yonder. I remember 
when I was minister of Innellan attending the 
last hours of a little deformed girl. She had 
been a lifelong invalid. She had borne years 
of pain with the most extraordinary patience. 
I asked her, in wonder, how she could bear so 
bravely. I expected her to answer, " I weep 
now; I shall laugh yet " — " I go on foot now; 
I shall have a carriage yet " — " I have poor 
raiment now; I shall wear diamonds yet." In- 
stead of that, she said, " O sir ! you know I am 
training to be a ministering spirit." That little 
girl had seen the bridal of the earth and sky — 
the marriage supper of the Lamb 

For indeed, my soul, what thou needest is 
not an unclothing of thy burden; it is that thy 
burden should be swallowed up in the life of 
love. Why has thy Father given thee a burden 
here? To make thee long for the beauty of 
heaven? A burden is a bad preparation for 
beauty. If Heaven is exclusively a place of 
flowers, thou shouldst be in the garden now. 
Why art thou not now in the garden? It is 
because thou art not training for a garden. 
Thou art training to be a ministering spirit. 



RETIREMENT 139 

That is why God does not unclothe thee of thy 
heavy garments. The heavy garments are the 
fashion up yonder — only, they no longer 
oppress. God would not diminish thy load ; He 
would strengthen thine arm. There will be 
more weights to carry in heaven than on earth. 
Wouldst thou enter into the joy of thy Lord? 
The joy of thy Lord is burden-bearing. He 
began by feeling the heaviness of the vesture; 
but love made it a garment of praise ; and now 
His yoke is easy and His burden is light. Thou 
shalt not need to be divested of thy care when 
thou shalt enter into the joy, into the sympathy, 
of Jesus. 



i 4 o TIMES OF 



" THE VALUE OF EASTER DAY " 

"An angel rolled away the stone, and sat upon it." 

Matt, xxviii. 2. 

SURELY the angel of Easter morning did 
a superfluous piece of work! To roll 
away the stone of the sepulchre was a 
very important thing; but to sit upon it after- 
ward — surely that was a useless task ! Is it not 
a lame and impotent conclusion to a great deed ! 
We should have expected the Easter angel, after 
rolling away the stone, to have been described 
as winging his way " beyond the clouds and be- 
yond the tomb." But, when we are called to 
see him sitting on the old gravestone, is that 
poetry, is that beauty? Yes — the grandest 
poetry, the most subtle beauty. It is a far finer 
image than would have been depicted in the 
angel flying home. It is not enough that the 
stone of my grief should be rolled away ; it must 
be glorified. Many a sorrow, when it passes 



RETIREMENT 141 

away, leaves soreness behind. It is no longer 
the place of my tribulation to-day, but it was 
the place of my tribulation yesterday. I weep 
over my yesterday ; I need something to explain 
my yesterday. To-day has been glorified; I 
want yesterday to be glorified too. I want to 
see the angel in the place where my old sorrow 
lay—on the stone of my former sepulchre. The 
glory of Easter morning is that it brightens 
past mornings. It tells me that what I called 
death was never there. It throws a light upon 
the ancient graves. It answers the long-re- 
peated question, " To- what purpose is this 
waste?" It dispels my complaining over the 
vanished years. It dries my tears shed for the 
shortness of human life. It vindicates the past 
justice of my Father. 

Lord of Easter Day, let me see the angel on 
the gravestone ! I cannot see Thy rising; I am 
born too late for that. But on every grave- 
stone Thou hast left an angel sitting; the stone 
has itself become radiant. I used to cry for a 
chariot of fire to bear me beyond death. The 
chariot comes not, but the angel at the grave 
is better; he makes the cloud of death itself Thy 



142 TIMES OF 

chariot. Reveal to me that angel at the grave ! 
Give me a view of death as a hallozved thing! 
It has long been to me the king of terrors ; my 
gravestone has held a spectre. Take away the 
spectre, and put an angel there! If I saw an 
angel on the stone, I do not think I should need 
to see it rolled away. When I was a child I 
would have abolished the thunder; I thought it 
was the voice of disorder in the world. I would 
not abolish it now ; I know it is the rhythm of 
Thine ozvn voice. What has made the change? 
It is the presence of the angel. The thunder 
has not been rolled away, but it has ceased to be 
to me a discord; it has become a chord of Th) 
music. So is it with death this Easter morn- 
ing! An angel sits upon the former spot of 
gloom! Thou hast glorified my pain of yes- 
terday! Thou hast exalted my valley of hu- 
miliation ! Thou hast peopled my desert of si- 
lence! Thou hast lighted my path of despair! 
Thou hast put the myrtle where the briar grew, 
the fir tree where the thorn grew ! The stone of 
the sepulchre is not less heavy; but the weight 
of affliction has become a weight of glory. 



RETIREMENT 143 



"THE PEACEABLENESS AFTER 
PURITY " 

"First pure, then peaceable." — James iii. I/. 

THERE is a peaceableness which comes 
before purity; and it is not beautiful. 
It is the gentleness of a shallow na- 
ture. There is all the difference in the world 
between the peace of an inland lake and the 
peace of the great sea. The one is calm because 
it is sheltered from the storm, the other be- 
cause it has lulled the breeze to rest upon its 
bosom. Even so is it with the passions of the 
heart. There are lives among us which are 
only inland lakes. They roll not, they toss not ; 
and yet we do not deem them beautiful. We 
feel that their peace has cost them no struggle; 
they are calm because they cannot help it. I do 
not prize the forgiveness of my sin by souls like 
these; they have not love enough to be angry. 
But there are other lives which are like the 



144 TIMES OF 

great sea. Theirs is not the peace of passion- 
lessness, but of passion — of that purity called 
love. When I do wrong, they forgive me for 
Christ's sake — not because they are indifferent 
to Christ. They pardon me, not because they 
are ignorant of the Hood, but because they see 
the rainbow. The shallow heart can pardon be- 
cause it regrets not my yesterday ; the pure heart 
can pardon because it sees my tomorrow. 

Grant me, O Christ, the peacemaking that 
comes from purity! I would not learn forgive- 
ness by ceasing to feel my brother's sin; I 
would learn it by coming to know my brother's 
possibilities. I would not that his night should 
become less dark to me; but I should like to 
have a clearer view of his morning. I feel that 
the pure in heart, just because they see God, 
have a great advantage for pardoning; they 
have the vision of all eternity with its boundless 
possibilities. Give me that vision, O Lord — 
what the pure in heart see ! Give me a sight of 
the many hopes that bloom in the many man- 
sions of my Father! Give me a view of the 
hidden springs of mercy that are flowing un- 
derground in the paradise fields! When I am 



RETIREMENT 145 

tempted to send the flood, let me see my 
brother's bow of promise! Let me see the 
flower as it will bloom in Thy garden; let me 
hear the music as it will sound on Thy harp! 
Let me figure my offending brother in the light 
of kindlier skies! Let me figure him without 
the graveclothes — without the impediments of 
time ! Let me figure him in a new environment 
— with the old heredity expelled and the old 
upbringing supplanted ! Let me figure him born 
again — of a new life, of a purer blood. Let 
me figure him brought up in fresh surroundings 
—in the presence of Thy glory ! Then shall my 
forgiveness be the fruit of fervour, not of cold- 
ness. I shall reach the blessing of the merciful 
when I have received the vision of the pure in 
heart. 



146 TIMES OF 



"THE UNION OF SANCTITY AND 
LIBERTY " 

"By me if any man enter in, he shall go in and out, 
and find pasture." — John x. 9. 
" He shall go no more out." — Rev. iii. 12. 

WHICH of these two statements is 
correct? They are made by the 
same man ; and yet they seem con- 
tradictory. The one says that when a man 
comes to Christ he shall come out again into the 
world whenever he likes; the other says that 
when he once goes in he shall never come out at 
all. What does John mean? Has he changed 
his mind about the relation of Christ to the 
world? No, he is in perfect harmony with 
himself. What he means is that when a Chris- 
tian comes out into the world he will cease any 
longer to regard the world as outside; he will 
count it a bit of the temple. He will find pas- 
ture in the places where he used to find 



RETIREMENT 147 

waste. He never found pasture in the world 
before he came to Jesus; he thought it a scene 
of mental starvation. But when he comes 
to Jesus the world will take a new col- 
our; it will catch the glow of Jesus. We 
often see a Christian coming out from the 
temple door and joining the merry secular 
throng. We say, " I told you the revival would 
not last; that man Ins cooled down; he has 
gone back to the world." No, he has not; he 
has extended his Christian premises. To the 
eye of the spectator he is coming out — but not 
to his ozvn eye. The world is to him a mansion 
of the Father's house — one of the many man- 
sions. It is a room within the temple. It is a 
place of worship. It is an altar of sacrifice. It 
is a scene of prayer. It is a school for humility. 
It is a spot for revelation. It is a possible 
meeting-place with God. 

My soul, thinkest thou that the only cross of 
Christ is that of the desert ! Thinkest thou that 
there is no altar of sacrifice in the ivorld! There 
is such an altar — and it burns most in the hour 
of social gaiety. I hear thee speak of the sac- 
rifice involved in worldly griefs; hast thou pon- 



148 TIMES OF 

dered the sacrifice in worldly joys! Hast thou 
considered the hour of festivity! When thou 
art sitting at the festive board and listening to 
the ringing laughter, hast thou meditated how 
many of these men are covering a cross ! Why 
do they cover it ? To prevent the sight of their 
pain from spoiling the evening's joy. All such 
are bearing the true cross — Christ's cross. They 
are hiding the thorn in the rose. They are 
burying the sigh in the song. They are 
shrouding the tear in the smile. They are con- 
cealing the weight at their heart by the lightness 
of their own movement. Abraham has risen 
up from before his dead to perform the cour- 
tesies of the householder; he has anointed his 
face and washed his hands that he may not 
break his brother's joy. He still keeps his 
cross, but he keeps it under a wreath of flowers. 
Truly the service of this earthly table is a 
service in the courts of the Lord! 



RETIREMENT 149 



"THE DECLINE OF RECKLESS 
COURAGE." 

"Let them be ashamed which transgress without 
cause." — Psalm xxv. 3. 

THERE is nothing which men are by 
nature so proud of as reckless courage 
— transgressing without cause. They 
are not proud of having transgressed through 
ignorance. They are not proud of having trans- 
gressed through false conviction. But they are 
apt to be proud of a wrong deed whose simple 
motive was personal fearlessness ; it seems to 
make them heroes. The Psalmist, on the con- 
trary, says it is a thing to be ashamed of; he 
will admit nothing heroic in a deed of reckless 
courage. And, indeed, I think he is right. 
For there are two kinds of courage in this 
world — the courage of the flesh and the courage 
of the spirit. The one is something which we 
share with the beast of the field, and in which 



150 TIMES OF 

the beast of the field excels us ; the other is all 
our own. I remember reading lately of two 
little girls discussing the depth of a pond. One 
had the courage of the flesh and was eager to 
display it; she proposed they should both jump 
in and try. Her sister drew back; she was 
timid in the flesh. The bolder of the two leapt 
into the water and did not come up; she had 
been caught in a bank of weeds. Then the one 
timid in the flesh became brave in the spirit; 
without a moment's hesitation she sprang into 
the dreaded water and rescued her sister. Which 
of these had most animal courage? The one 
who endangered her life without cause. The 
other never reached the absence of fear — not 
even when she saved her sister. Yet hers was a 
nobler courage, less in quantity, higher in kind. 
She never lost the timidity of the flesh ; but she 
was carried through that timidity by a motive 
of love. 

O Lord Jesus Christ, dispel my false ideal of 
glory ! Dispel my thought that to say " I do 
not care " is a manly thing ! Teach me that the 
glory of man is not fearlessness, but fear ! The 
higher I climb in creation, the more does my 



RETIREMENT 151 

flesh lose courage. The lion is bolder than the 
child; the child is bolder than the youth; the 
youth is bolder than the man. I have more fear 
as I come nearer to Thee. Men before Thy 
coming did not fear death as they fear it now. 
Thou hast made life so responsible that death 
is to me more appalling ; I could not bear it now 
without the vision of a debt discharged. It is 
easy for a man to die who thinks himself a 
worm — who deems his brothers worms; such a 
life to such a brotherhood can have nothing to 
pay. But I have learned from Thee the magni- 
tude of life, the awfulness of life. I have 
learned from Thee the weight of an idle word, 
the sweep of a single sin. I have learned it, 
and it makes me laden. I have lost the courage 
of the beast of the field ; it has dropped from me 
like Elijah's mantle as I have ascended. There 
has come to me a great fear — Thy fear — the 
fear of the Lord. I thank Thee, O Christ, for 
this new, this solemn gift. 



152 TIMES OF 



" UNREALITY " 

" The fashion of this world passeth away" 

i Cor. vii. 31. 

THE word translated " fashion " literally 
means " stage scenery/' Paul does 
not mean that everything on earth is 
perishable, but that every unreal thing is per- 
ishable. Stage scenery is unreal scenery. It 
does not represent the actual facts of the green- 
room. Many an actor is bringing down the 
house with laughter when his own heart is 
breaking. Paul saw that a great deal of life 
is simply stage acting — concealment of the 
greenroom. How many kind things are spoken, 
not in order to reveal, but in order to cover! 
How many gifts are sent, not for your sake, 
but for the sake of the donor! How many 
blandishments are lavished for a vote! How 
many visits are paid for a subscription! Paul 
says all this unreality will pass away. When 



RETIREMENT 153 

will it pass away? At death, you say. No; 
death does not reveal the reality of life. Death 
does not tear away the mask from the face of 
my brother. Death is itself a mask, itself an 
unreality. So far from causing the stage 
scenery to vanish, it is itself the climax of illu- 
sion. It is not to death I look; it is to love. 
Love is the great dispeller of unreality. Love 
is the great emancipator from stage scenery. 
Love is the true rending of the veil between this 
world and the world to come. 

My soul, I have heard thee speak of life as 
a vain show. It is rather the want of life that 
is a vain show. It is thy life's unreality that 
makes it vanity. I have heard thee speak of 
death as the revealer of delusions ; it is itself the 
biggest delusion of all. It is the deadening 
effect of the worldly fashion that makes that 
fashion unreal to thee. It paralyses energy; it 
curbs spontaneity. Not by drawing near the 
grave shalt thou learn life's reality. Thou shalt 
learn it by leaving the grave further behind. 
Why sayest thou that all things are levelled in 
the tomb ! They are not ; there is stage scenery 
even in the funeral pageant. Love is the only 



154 TIMES OF 

leveller ; fly to the bosom of love ! In vain shalt 
thou wander in the cemetery ; in vain shalt thou 
count the tombstones; in vain shalt thou read 
the inscriptions on the graves — they will teach 
thee nothing of life's reality. But love will. 
Love will rend the drapery and let thee see 
through. Love will tear the mask and show 
thee the man. Love will break the illusion that 
lights the stage of time. Love will detect the 
false ring of the pretending gold. Love will 
see the true gem in many an unpretentious 
casket. Love will discover the greenroom 
where hides the real life of the actor. Fly to 
the bosom of love, O my soul ! 



RETIREMENT 155 



" THE MEETING OF LIFE'S 
EXTREMES." 

"Except ye become as little children/' 

Matt, xviii. 3. 
" That ye might be filled with all the fulness of God." 
— Ephesians iii. 19. 

TO become a little child ; to be filled with 
all the fulness of God — how shall we 
reconcile these two aspirations ! They 
need no reconciling. Do you want to get back 
the qualities of your childhood ? You can only 
do so by going forward. There are only two 
things which can give the qualities of the child 
■ — emptiness and fulness — the opening, and the 
completed, day. Take the Sermon on the 
Mount — the blessing which Jesus pronounced 
on certain qualities. They are all qualities of 
the child — humility, dissatisfaction, meekness, 
hunger, mercy, purity, peacemaking; and the 
child has them by reason of its emptiness. But 



156 TIMES OF 

the man can get them back by his fulness. The 
child is " poor in spirit " because he has no 
ideal; the man, because his ideal is so high. 
The child often " mourns " because he is too 
small for his environment ; the man because he 
is too big for his environment. The child is 
"meek" because he is shallow; the man, be- 
cause he is balancing the depths. The child 
" hungers " before he takes food ; the hunger of 
the spiritual man comes after tasting. The 
child " forgives " because he forgets; the man, 
because he remembers — remembers the frailty 
of his brother's frame. The child is " pure " 
because he is innocent; the man, because he 
sees impurity's stain. The child " makes 
peace " because he is ignorant of self-interest ; 
the man, because he has learned self-sacrifice. 
The spiritual man gets back the virtues of the 
child; but he gets them back " on the Mount." 
My brother, often have I heard thee lament 
the loss of thy youth. Ever art thou deploring 
that the hours of the morning pass so soon 
away, that the afternoon and evening come so 
quickly round. What if the afternoon and eve- 
ning should be the road back to the morning! 



RETIREMENT 157 

What if the fulness of experience should restore 
the very glory which was to thee associated 
with ignorance of the world ! It can restore it ; 
it will restore it. Thy youth is coming back to 
thee by the very chariot in which it departed. 
It departed with opening experience ; it will re- 
turn with completed experience. The star that 
waits for thee is " the bright and morning 
star." Behind the afternoon clouds, behind the 
evening shadows, behind the night watches, lies 
thy prospect of a second dawn. Is it not written 
" when the fulness of the time was come, God 
sent His Son" — the Child-Christ! So shall 
it be in the fulness of thine experience. Thy 
Child-Christ shall come. Life will dawn anew. 
Morn will break once more. Thou shalt stand 
again in the east with the rising sun. Thou 
shalt hear again the shepherds' song over the 
plains of Bethlehem. And the song shall be all 
hope — the hope that comes only with the morn- 
ing, the optimism of first bells, the expectation 
that is inseparable from the dawn — " Glory ! 
peace ! goodwill ! " 



158 TIMES OF 



"SALVATION AND DILAPIDATION " 

" To enter, into life halt or maimed." 

Matt, xviii. 8. 

THERE are two ways of entering into the 
life of God — the mounting up with the 
wings of an eagle and the halting on 
lame feet. The prodigal son came in by the 
former way; he entered at once into rest; he was 
greeted instantaneously with the music and 
dancing of the Father's house. The patriarch 
Jacob came in by the other way; he halted on 
his thigh amid the glories of Peniel ; the break- 
ing of the day came to him in the shrinking of 
the sin.ew. I am glad there is this latter way 
of entering into life. I am glad one can enter 
into the life of God when he has not the wings 
of an eagle — when he feels the reverse of soar- 
ing. I am glad that depression is not incom- 
patible with the new birth — that a man may be 
halt, maimed, mutilated, and yet at that very 



RETIREMENT 159 

time may have already passed from death unto 
life. None but Christ ever offered such liberal 
terms of salvation. None but Christ would 
ever accept a bird with broken wing. The 
men of the past demanded the flight of the 
eagle. They wrote upon the portals of their 
heaven, " The halt and the maimed enter not 
here." Greece demanded the beautiful; Rome 
called for the strong; Judea summoned the 
good; none said to the labouring and heavy- 
laden " I go to prepare a place for you." None 
but one — the Man, Christ Jesus. He alone in- 
vited the lame feet. The Greek could only 
come in the car of Venus; the Jew could only 
ascend in the chariot of Elijah; the Christian 
could totter into the Kingdom of God. 

O Love Divine, all loves excelling ! we thank 
Thee for Thy transcendence. All earth-born 
love is built upon some glory of its object; my 
carnal heart waits for the appearing of my 
brother's star. But Thou waitest not for 
the star; Thou hast songs in the night. 
Thy heart is less exacting than mine; it claims 
less at the starting. / demand at the very least 
the presence of a bow in the cloud ; Thou wilt 



160 TIMES OF 

accept the cloud without the bow. I refuse to 
be reconciled to my brother unless he has 
offered me his gift ; but Thou bringest Thy gift 
to invite my reconciliation. Thou comest to 
me in my impotence, in my poverty, in my mean 
attire. Thou comest to me when it is still mid- 
night. Thou comest when there is only a man- 
ger with no Christ in it; Thou bringest Thy 
Christ to the manger. Thou comest when there 
is only the storm and no Jesus ; Thou bringest 
Jesus to walk upon the storm. Thou alone hast 
seen the prodigal afar off. Other masters have 
delayed their coming till he has put on the ring 
and the robe; Thou bringest the ring and the 
robe to the house of his squalour. Man's heart 
can rise to the hills of heaven ; but Thine alone 
can embrace the valleys of earth. 



RETIREMENT 161 



" THANKSGIVING FOR THE BLESSED 
DEAD " 

" Jesus said, Father, I thank Thee that Thou hast heard 
me." — John xi. 41. 

WERE you ever struck by a peculiarity 
in the passage above quoted ? Jesus 
thanks His Father for a boon 
which has not yet been given ! He blesses God 
for a resurrection which has not yet been ef- 
fected ! " I thank Thee that Thou hast heard 
me." How could Jesus say that! Lazarus was 
still in the grave ! The trappings of death were 
yet around him ! The silence of the sepulchre was 
unbroken ! The prayer had gone up ; but there 
had been no audible response. Why should the 
thanksgiving have preceded the harvest? Be- 
cause the act of Jesus has a foundation in ex- 
perience. Do you and I never say, in our letters 
to a friend, " Thanking you in anticipation " ! 
When do we use these words? It is when we 



162 TIMES OF 

feel sure that the thing will be agreeable to the 
friend's will. Jesus, too, was sure of this. He 
was quite sure that the thing He asked was 
agreeable to the will of the Father; therefore 
He thanked the Father in anticipation. He did 
not always feel this certainty; in Gethsemane 
He said, " Father, if it be possible." But here 
He had no doubt at all. What was this point 
on which He felt so sure of the Father's concur- 
rence? It was the immortality- of the soul. He 
knew that His Father shrank from the dying of 
a man. He knew that His Father was praying, 
as He was praying, for the soul's eternal life. 
He knew that the heart of His Father was ever 
adverse to the claims of the grave. He was so 
sure of His Father's mind that He thanked 
Him in advance. 

I, too, will thank Thee for my hallowed dead, 
O God! I will thank Thee in the absence of 
outward evidence — in the midst of the great 
silence ! There has as yet come no resurrection 
mandate to my ear. I have heard no voice 
which said " Lazarus, come forth ! " I have 
seen with the eye of sense nothing to tell me 
that the garments of the grave are a delusion. 



RETIREMENT 163 

Yet the attitude of my soul will be one rather of 
thanksgiving than of prayer. Somehow, I feel 
as if this were one of the things I did not need to 
pray for, one of the things which are granted 
already, one of the things in which thanks- 
giving takes the place of prayer. When I stand 
beside the grave that professes to hold my dead, 
I seem to understand the words, " In that day 
ye shall ask me nothing." There are some 
things for which it would be superfluous to 
pray. Could I pray that Thou shouldst love 
the Lord Jesus! Could I pray that Thou 
shouldst keep Thy Divine purity! Such re- 
quests I have no need to make. Neither need I 
ask the immortality of human love. It is a part 
of Thyself; Thou couldst not let it die. There- 
fore, I will not pray for my dead; I will give 
thanks for them. I will bring a wreath to the 
sepulchre — a wreath of immortelles. I will 
sing an Easter hymn in the winter of the year. 
I will number the departed among the mem- 
bers of my household ; I will say, with the little 
girl by the gravestone, " We are seven ! " I 
will keep a place for the old chair in a corner of 
my heart. I will garner the old songs in the 



1 64 TIMES OF 

fields of memory. I will preserve the birthdays 
on the fly-leaf of the old Bible as anniversaries, 
not of the dead, but of the living. And when, 
within Thy house, I bend my knee in the mo- 
ment allotted to silent prayer, I will not say 
" Father, raise up my dead ! " but " Father, I 
bless Thy Name, that my dead are raised 
already ! " 



RETIREMENT 165 



" PAUL'S HYMN TO LOVE " 

"Love endureth all things." — I Cor. xiii. 7. 

THERE is one thing which has often 
struck me in Paul's hymn to love; it 
is a hymn in praise of what love for- 
bears to do. Take it verse by verse, clause by 
clause, and you will find this true. It opens with 
the strain, " Love suffers long; " it closes with 
the chord, " Love abideth." To " abide " is 
really the same thing as to " suffer long; " we 
say, " I cannot abide this " — cannot bear it. In 
its beginning, in its ending, in its intermediate 
stages, the hymn rings the changes on one note, 
" Love endureth." Should we not have ex- 
pected less prosaic ground? Should we not 
have looked for the harp to tell, not what love 
can bear, but what love can do ? Why not speak 
of her gifts bestowed, of her treasures lavished, 
of her wealth diffused? Why not sing of the 
ointment she has outpoured, of the feet she 



i66 TIMES OF 

has washed with her tears, of the spices she 
has brought to the sepulchre ? Why not tell of 
her journey ings, of her bounties, of her chari- 
ties, of her deeds of glory done? Would not 
this have made a grander hymn than the mere 
recital of how much she can bear without 
crying ? 

Nay, my soul, it is not so ; Paul is right, and 
thou art wrong. The glory of all things lies in 
their arduous path. The arduous path of love is 
its forbearance. Art thou seeking a romantic 
outlet for thy love? Art thou looking for a 
chance to plunge into the river, or to face the de- 
vouring flame ? Art thou saying, either to thy 
Christ or to thy brother, " Bid me that I come 
to Thee on the waters " ? I would dissuade thee 
from such a prayer. It is not the height of the 
aim that makes me dissuade thee. I do not 
think the aim high enough, the test sure enough. 
It is easy for thy love to expand itself in an 
ecstatic spasm. It is easy for " the passion- 
flower at the gate " to let fall " a splendid tear " 
— to be sacrificial in heroic circumstances. But 
the test of thy love is where the circumstances 
are not heroic. The test of thy love is where 



RETIREMENT 167 

there is no splendour in the tear — where it falls 
in secret and unseen. Can thy love bear life's 
little frictions ? Can it bear the f rettings by the 
world's prose? Can it bear to be itself mis- 
understood, misinterpreted? Can it endure a 
delay in the response ; can it support those mo- 
ments of silence where there is no return ? Can 
it take ashes in exchange for beauty, the spirit 
of heaviness in response to the garment of 
praise ? The poet tells us of a rose in a garden 
where there was no other rose " to reflect its 
blushes." That garden must have been Geth- 
semane. If thy love can bear that and not die, 
it is worthy of Paul's hymn. 



168 TIMES OF 



" SERVICE BY THE SORROWFUL " 

"Let us run with patience." — Hebrews xii. I. 

TO run with patience is a very difficult 
thing. Running is apt to suggest the 
absence of patience, the eagerness to 
reach the goal. We commonly associate pa- 
tience with lying down. We think of it as the 
angel that guards the couch of the invalid. 
And, indeed, for those who are invalids patience 
is the angel-virtue, the crown of spiritual ripe- 
ness. Yet, I do not think the invalid's patience 
the hardest to achieve. There is a patience 
which I believe to be harder — the patience that 
can run. To lie down in the time of grief, to be 
quiet under the stroke of adverse fortune, im- 
plies a great strength. But I know of some- 
thing that implies a strength greater still; it 
is the power to work under the stroke. To have 
a great weight at your heart and still to run, to 
have a big grief in your soul and still to work, 



RETIREMENT 169 

to have a deep anguish in your spirit and still 
to perform the daily task — it is a Christ-like 
thing ! Many of us could nurse our grief with- 
out crying if we were allowed to nurse it. The 
hard thing is that most of us are called to exer- 
cise our patience, not in bed, but in the street. 
We are called to bury our sorrow, not in 
lethargic quiescence, but in active service — in 
the exchange, in the counting-house, in the 
workshop, in the hour of social intercourse, in 
the contribution to another's joy. There is no 
burial of sorrow so difficult as that; it is the 
"running with patience." 

This was Thy patience, O Son of Man! It 
was at once a waiting and a running — a wait- 
ing for the goal, and a doing of the lesser work 
meantime. How seldom, when, in that Gospel 
story, I see Thee bearing my little crosses, do 
I think that, all the time, a big cross was at 
Thine own heart ! I see Thee at Cana turning 
the water into wine lest a marriage feast should 
be clouded. I see Thee in the desert feeding a 
multitude with bread just to relieve a tempo- 
rary pain. And, all the time, Thou wert bearing 
a mighty grief, unshared, unspoken. Thou 



i7o TIMES OF 

wert carrying my cross up Thy Dolorous Way, 
and easing my heart when Thine own heart was 
breaking. Make me partaker of Thy marvel- 
lous patience ! Give me the power, Thy power, 
to run the race when the heart is heavy ! I often 
ask to get light at evening time. But I should 
like to give light at evening time, O Lord. I 
should like at my evening time to have so 
much of Thy Divine patience that I could run 
the common race of life and make no sign. I 
should like to have a smile for the weary though 
my own soul be sad, to have a cheer for the 
downcast though my own spirit be drooping. 
Men ask for a rainbow in the cloud ; but I would 
ask more from Thee. I would be, in my cloud, 
myself a rainbow — a minister to others' joy. 
My patience will be perfect when it can work 
in the vineyard. 



RETIREMENT 171 



" THE JOYOUSNESS OF PIETY " 

"As long as she lay desolate she kept Sabbath." 

2 Chron. xxxvi. 21. 

IS religion, then, so unfavourable to cheer- 
fulness? Are the Sabbaths of the Lord 
such miserable days that we can only keep 
them when we are desolate? The idea is ex- 
actly the reverse; it is that we come to value 
God's happy Sabbaths when we ourselves are 
miserable. The desolateness comes not from 
God, but from the world. The desolateness is 
not. the preparation for the Sabbath; it is the 
contrast to the Sabbath. Men flee to the Sab- 
bath to avoid the desolation. We sometimes 
say, " As long as the rain fell they kept under 
shelter." The rain is not the preparation for 
the shelter; it is the contrast to it; the shelter 
supplies a want which the rain creates. The 
worship of God does not propose to make me 
miserable; it proposes to cure my misery. Men 



172 TIMES OF 

have spoken of religion as a state of asceticism, 
of individual loneliness. It is entirely the oppo- 
site; the world is a state of individual loneli- 
ness; we fly to God that our solitude may be 
broken. The burden of this world is its isola- 
tion of human souls; men are not properly 
united. There is a desolateness in purely 
secular life. We are not social enough, not 
comrades enough. There is as big a gulf be- 
tween each of us as between Dives and Laz- 
arus. There are times when we realise this, 
and then we cry aloud — cry aloud for the com- 
munion of Christ, for the voices of the great 
multitude, for the noise of many waters, for 
the breaking of solitude by the general assem- 
bly of the first-born. And the prayer we 
breathe is the prayer for a larger world. 

Lord, take us out of the desert — out of the 
desolate places! We are too much alone here. 
It is not the happiness of earth that makes it 
unfit for us; it is its wnhappiness. This world 
is not our rest — not our Sabbath. It fails to 
be our rest because it is not sufficiently a world. 
It is too lonely, too devoid of human cheer. We 
want more gaiety, more company, more inter- 



RETIREMENT 



173 



change of thought, more genuine social joy. 
That is why we come to Thy world, O Christ. 
It is because in Thy Father's house we hear 
the sound of music and the tread of dancing. 
It is because in Thy hall of banqueting we see 
a table spread for guests innumerable. It is 
because, from within Thy courts, we catch the 
strains of melody — the songs of voices re- 
deemed from selfishness. It is because in the 
streets of the New Jerusalem " the boys and 
girls play." It is because the very hired serv- 
ants of Thy Father have bread and to spare. 
Train us for Thy joy! Prepare us for Thy 
feast ! Ripen us for Thy year of jubilee ! Let 
us feel our want on earth that we may protest ; 
let us learn our famine that we may clamour; 
let us experience our chain that we may struggle 
to be free! It will be worth while to be led 
into the desert of Sinai if in the stillness of its 
lonely hours we shall hear the Sabbath bells of 
Canaan. 



i 7 4 TIMES OF 



" THE SUMMER OF THE SOUL " 

" Thou shalt visit thy habitation, and shalt not sin." 

Job v. 24. 

THE climax of moral goodness is good- 
ness in the domestic circle. When the 
beauty of a man's character reaches 
to his own dwelling, it must be beautiful in- 
deed ; the acme of virtue is to visit one's habita- 
tion and not sin. The common view is the 
opposite. We think of the home circle as the 
beginning of goodness. We think of the inter- 
course between brother and sister as an in- 
cipient stage, a preparatory stage. We look 
upon the domestic altar as the place of trivial 
sacrifice, the school for beginners in the Chris- 
tian race! But here is a startling revela- 
tion! Here is a voice from the ancient past 
which speaks a paradox! It tells us that the 
home is not the beginning, but the climax, of 
perfectness. It tells us that moral loveliness is 



RETIREMENT 175 

never so lovely in a man as when it shines in 
his dwelling-place. It tells us that the flower 
of human life only reaches its full bloom when 
its fragrance fills the garden where it was first 
planted. 

Teach me, O Lord, the way of Thy statutes 
— the order of Thy statutes ! I am in a great 
mistake about that order; I put Thy richest 
treasures on the lowest step. I have been ac- 
customed to say, " Be faithful in little things, 
and you will learn to be faithful in much.' , But 
Thy order inverts the sequence ; it says, " Be 
faithful in great things, and you will learn to be 
faithful in small/' I have been greatly mis- 
taken about that child which was put into the 
midst of Thy disciples; I have misread the 
motive for the deed. I have thought it was 
meant to teach me a lesson of humility. I suf- 
fered the child to come because I thought I was 
humbling my pride. It never occurred to 
me till now that I was getting a model 
for my highest imitation. It never dawned 
on me till now that the duties of home were 
set before me because the duties of home were 
the highest. But I begin to see it all ! I begin 



176 TIMES OF 

to see that there is no sinlessness so hard to 
win as sinlessness " in the habitation." Often 
have I lost in the household that temper which 
I controlled amid the crowd; often have I 
yielded in the home to that temptation which I 
resisted in the world. It is easy to lay aside my 
weight before the cloud of witnesses ; but when 
the witnesses are gone, the weight presses. 
Therefore I know why Thou hast made the 
child my model — the child amid the duties of 
home. Not Peter in the storm, not Matthew at 
the receipt of custom, not Jairus in the hour of 
grief, hast Thou made my model. The storm 
incites to heroism; the receipt of custom keeps 
me sober; the hour of grief withers earthly 
vanity. But the home is the unheroic hour, 
the unguarded hour, the hour when I am most 
apt to be vain. If Thy Spirit can reign there, 
it can reign everywhere; I shall walk stainless 
through the universe when I can visit my 
habitation and not sin. 



RETIREMENT 177 



" PRAYER FOR CHRIST'S SAKE " 

" Prayer shall be made for Him continually." 

Psalm lxii. 15. 

PRAYER for Him! Prayer for the 
Divine Being — the Messiah! Prayer 
for the welfare of Christ! The 
words are startling, the sentiment more start- 
ling still. I have been accustomed to pray for 
those in need — for the poor, the squalid, the 
vicious. But to pray for God, to supplicate in 
behalf of a being who is exalted above all other 
beings — is not that a profane thing! No, my 
brother; it is very holy, very pious — the most 
pious of all prayers. When you say that your 
Christ is exalted above all other beings did it 
never strike you that you have declared Him to 
be in need! To be exalted above all things is 
for Divine Love a source of deepest pain. The 
pain of Divine Love is just this elevation — this 
eminence, alone. It longs to step down, to 



178 TIMES OF 

break its solitude. It longs to behold in hu- 
manity a mirror of itself — another self whom it 
can speak to. Did you ever ask yourself why 
in teaching men to pray our Lord told them 
to pray first for the Father ? Why did He bid 
them begin by saying " Hallowed be Thy name, 
Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done " ? Was 
not our need of daily bread more pressing ? No. 
Christ knew that there was no hunger equal to 
the hunger of the Father. He knew that the 
heart of Divine Love was famished. He knew 
that the utmost human destitution cannot ap- 
proach in its intensity the want felt by Divine 
Love. Therefore before all things He bids us 
pity the impoverished heart of God — pity it 
and pray for it. He bids us remember the 
Divine want ere we remember the human. 
Think of the Father! He cries. Think of the 
Father's loneliness, think of the Father's 
prayer! Remember Love's poverty without 
love! Remember the solitude of a God with- 
out communion ! Let Him have your first sym- 
pathy, your earnest prayer! 

O Thou who hast taken into Thy hand the 



RETIREMENT 179 

work of the Father, I shall pray continually for 
Thee! I often pray to Thee; I shall learn to 
pray for Thee. I have been taught from my 
childhood to say " for Christ's sake," " for 
Jesus' sake," but I did not realise its meaning. 
I never understood that I was asking for Thy 
joy. I understand it now; and my old prayer 
gets a new significance for me. I thought I 
was asking for my own happiness; I see that 
unconsciously I was asking for Thine. Be it 
no more unconsciously, O Lord! Whatever I 
ask, let it be for Thy sake ! If I desire gold, let 
it be for Thy manger! If I desire the gift of 
song, let it be for Thy Bethlehem ! If I desire 
the hour of mirth, let it be for Thy Cana! If 
I desire the joys of home, let it be for Thy 
Nazareth! Let me treasure the alabaster for 
Thee, the spices for Thee, the household wares 
of Bethany for Thee ! If I ask wealth, let it be 
to feed Thy poor! If I ask health, let it be to 
bear Thy journeys! If I ask eloquence, let it 
be to repeat Thine accents ! If I ask genius, let 
it be to plead Thy cause ! If I ask beauty, let 
it be to reflect Thine image! If I ask the 



180 TIMES OF 

strength of a resurrection body, let it be to help 
Thy burden up the Dolorous Way! So shall 
my supplications be songs of love; my prayers 
will all be praises when they are prayers for 
Thee. 



RETIREMENT 181 



" THE PROVINCES OF LOVE " 

"J am the rose of the plain and the lily of the valleys." 

Solomon's Song ii. i. 

THE Song of Solomon depicts man's 
ideal of the highest love. It says that 
perfect love must be fit for two spheres 
— the plain and the valhy; it must be a rose to 
the one and a lily to the other. For, it is be- 
tween these spheres that human life oscillates. 
Our place of abode is either in the valley or on 
the plain ; we never abide on the mountain. Be- 
tween the valley and the plain we divide our 
days. Some are days of the valley — days of de- 
pression, days of downcastness, days when the 
spirit is low. At these times we have no solace 
like love; the touch of a kindred sympathy 
blunts the edge of our pain. But I think our 
most frequent moments are on the plain — the 
sphere of the commonplace. In the valley we 
have a sense of something to bear. But on the 



i82 TIMES OF 

plain we have a sense that there is nothing 
either to do or to bear. We are dull, not 
through life's burden, but through life's mo- 
notony — through the yearning for something 
new ; we want a rose in our path. And we find 
it in love. We find the new thing in that old, 
old story, ancient yet ever young — that story 
which destroys the distinction between yester- 
day and to-day and to-morrow. 

Even such, O Christ, is the power of my 
love for Thee! It fits me both for the valley 
and for the plain. It is my lily for the valley ; 
it is my rose for the plain. When I am down 
in the vale, oppressed with my toiling and my 
spinning, it becomes my lily ; it teaches me to be 
spontaneous, to forget myself in Thee. And 
when I stand on the common plain seeing only 
life's monotony, it becomes my rose; it makes 
my prosaic world a garden. I thank Thee for 
these flowers of Thy love. I thank Thee that it 
has strengthened me both for the valley and for 
the plain. I thank Thee that it has been at once 
my lily and my rose. Ever let there remain to 
me these two flowers of Thy love — the flower 
of self-forgetfulness and the flower of out- 



RETIREMENT 183 

ward radiance ! When I am down in the valley, 
when I am weighted with the burden of care, 
make Thy love my lily! Help me in the sun- 
shine of Thy presence to grow as the lily grows 
— unconscious of the earth that hems it round ! 
When I am walking on the level plain, when my 
soul is drooping for want of something new, 
make Thy love my rose! Help me, through the 
sunshine of Thy presence, to see the radiance 
of common things — the glow beyond colour, 
the grace beyond form, the light that never 
shone on sea or shore ! So shall my valley be 
harmless ; so shall my plain be glorious. Each 
side shall have its flower — love's flower. And 
the flower of Thy love shall keep me both in 
plain and vale — keep me in the absence of the 
heights, keep me in the presence of the great 
deep. 



1 84 TIMES OF 



" THE LATENESS OF ABRAHAM'S 
SACRIFICE " 

" And it came to pass after these things, that God did 
tempt Abraham." — Genesis xxii. I. 

44 A FTER these things " — as the sequel to 
/~\ all the experiences of his life. Is 
not that a strange place to assign to 
a sacrificial .temptation ! Should we not be dis- 
posed to test a man at the beginning of his ca- 
reer ! Why is Abraham put to the test at sun- 
set? Why has the sacrificial hour waited for 
his closing years? Is not youth the season in 
which a man's power of sacrifice would be the 
truest measure of him ? No, it is not. It is, no 
doubt, the season when we hear most about 
sacrifice. Young people often cultivate melan- 
choly, often figure to themselves wonderful 
plans for self-surrender. But we do not much 
value these. Why ? Because we feel that they 
are offering to give up something they have 



RETIREMENT 185 

never tasted. It is not at the threshold of life 
that life reveals its beauty; it is after you have 
climbed the stairs. The romance of youth is the 
search of youth for another world. The reason 
why in after life romance dies is because actual 
things become precious. Only when they have 
become precious is the life of sacrifice a life of 
unselfishness. You must have the Transfigu- 
ration previous to the Cross. The gift must be 
dear to you ere the giving to another can be 
sweet. Before God tempts Abraham He must 
appeal to a joy of Abraham's heart, " Thy son 
whom thou lovest." 

And so, my Lord, has it been with Thy sacri- 
fice ! The life Thou hast given for me was not 
a life which by Thee was counted light in 
weight. Thine was no pessimist offering — no 
surrender of a withered flower. Not because 
earth to Thee was barren didst Thou resign it. 
Not because its streams had ceased to gladden 
Thee didst Thou desert their banks. Earth was 
not barren to Thee; its streams had never lost 
their joyous music. Thou wert " crowned with 
glory and honour " for Thy sacrifice. The life 
resigned by Thee was a life of beauty — a life 



186 TIMES OF 

whose beauty was recognised by Thee, enjoyed 
by Thee. Thou hadst tasted of every pure de- 
light ere Thou wert called to lay life down; 
hadst revelled with the bird of the air; hadst 
sat in the temple of wisdom; hadst ministered 
to the marriage feast; hadst watched the gam- 
bols of children; hadst known the delights of 
friendship; hadst felt the endearments of 
home; hadst experienced the luxury of human 
devotion. Life had opened every door to Thee. 
Not because life was poor, but because love 
was rich, didst Thou climb that cross of 
pain. So would I climb with Thee! I would 
climb for love — for love alone. I would not 
seek heaven because I despaired of earth; I 
would bring my earthly treasures into heaven. 
I would not fly to Thee in the winter of my 
heart. I would come when my heart was sum- 
mer — when its leaves were green. I would 
bring Thee the full-blown rose, the ripest fruit, 
the finest songs of the grove. I would break 
the alabaster box for Thee, not when it was 
empty, but when it was laden with perfume. I 
would make my sacrifice a sacrifice of praise. 



RETIREMENT 187 



"THE FIRE WITHOUT THE LAMB" 

" Isaac said, Behold the fire and the wood, but where 
is the lamb for a burnt offering?" — Genesis xxii. 7. 

THE experience of Isaac in the hour of 
sacrifice is not an unusual one. There 
are many who feel the inward fire, 
but who have no object to lay upon it; they cry 
" Behold the fire and the wood, but where is the 
lamb ! " There are many who would be clergy- 
men if they had the means. There are many 
who would be missionaries if they had the 
talent. There are many who would be sick- 
nurses if they had the strength. To such the 
story of Isaac should bring deep comfort. It 
tells of a man who had the fire in his heart, 
but nothing in his hand. And the fire in the 
heart was accepted as a substitute for something 
in the hand. Isaac could have said, in the lan- 
guage of the hymn, " Nothing in my hands I 
bring." He had no mission-field to till, no 



188 TIMES OF 

hospital to tend, no district to visit. He had 
nothing to give but himself — his will, his in- 
ward fire; there was no lamb. Yet God ac- 
cepted him without the lamb — without the mis- 
sion-field, without the tended district, without 
the hospital service. God accepted the inward 
combustion, the fire in the soul, the seal in the 
spirit, the intention of the heart. The lamb 
was only slain in imagination ; but the imagina- 
tion was counted a reality; the offering was 
deemed complete. 

So shall it be with thee, my brother ! When 
thy spirit is willing and thy flesh is weak, re- 
member Isaac! Remember that the lamb God 
sees is the lamb in the heart ! I hear thee speak 
of the difference between the imaginary and 
the real. But to thy Father the most real thing 
about thee is thine imagining. Not what thou 
art able to do, but what thou art able to will, is 
the measure of thee. The world will judge thee 
by thy deeds; the Father will judge thee by 
thine aspirings. Thou canst not build a tower 
that will reach to heaven; but thou canst build 
a thought that will reach to heaven. And thy 
thought is the building which the Father sees. 



RETIREMENT 189 

The rainbow in the flood of thy sins is not 
thy power to fly; it is thy power to feel; this 
is the true arch between earth and heaven. 
It makes the comfort of thy Father; let it be 
thy comfort, too! Thy flesh is weak, but thy 
spirit is ready; keep thine eye upon thy spirit! 
When thou art impressed with how little thou 
hast done for Christ, remember what thou hasl. 
planned to do ! Remember what fields thou hast 
traversed for Him in fancy! Remember the 
long roads on which thy love desired to go! 
Remember the stormy seas on which thy de- 
votion longed to sail ! Remember the hills of 
difficulty on which thy feet aspired to stand! 
Remember the battles thou wert willing to fight, 
the burdens thou wert eager to bear, the succour 
thou wert sighing to send ! These are thine un- 
spoken sacrifices; these are thy moments on 
Moriah's Mount. The fuel in the heart seems 
to have been fired in vain ; but in the surrender 
of thine inmost will God has provided a lamb 
for the burnt offering. 



190 TIMES OF 



" ASCETICISM " 

''Lay not thine hand upon the lad, for now I know 
that thou fearest God." — Genesis xxii. 12. 

AND so, my Father does not need any 
pain ! I used to think that He did. I 
used to think that pain was inseparable 
from holiness. I used to measure a man's piety 
by his gloom. The scene on Mount Moriah 
puts this error to flight. Why is Abraham 
called to suffer pain? Because he is a man of 
ripe holiness? No; because he is a man whose 
ripeness has not been proved. The moment it 
is proved, the pain ceases. Isaac is given back 
to him. The sacrifice is repealed. The act of 
asceticism is forbidden. The process of im- 
molation is pronounced unnecessary. It is pro- 
nounced unnecessary because holiness is proved, 
because the gates of the religious life have been 



RETIREMENT 191 

opened, " Put not thine hand upon the lad, for 
now I know that thou fearest God." 

So shall it be with thee, O my soul! Why 
admirest thou the men who court religious 
pain! Why buildest thou a monument to the 
sons of the desert — the Abrahams who have 
given up their Isaac just in order that they 
might feel sad! Thinkest thou that such sad- 
ness is dear to thy Father ! When His voice is 
heard in the garden in the cool of the day, 
will it please Him to find Adam in a heat of 
perplexity ! Shall love be glad when its object 
trembles at its tread ! Shall love be glad when 
its presence is greeted with tears! Shall love 
be glad when its footfall on the stair awakes a 
cry of agony! Nay, my soul, thy Father is 
waiting for thy joy. Thou callest thy days of 
joy summer days; so does thy Father. Thy 
summer is thy ripeness. Thou hast not perfect 
liberty with man till thou hast basked in the 
light of God. It is not on the top of the hill 
that thou art called to give up thine Isaac ; it is 
at the hill/00 £. It is from thy worldly state 
that thy Father demands asceticism. Is it not 
written, " You are not straitened in Christ ; you 



192 TIMES OF 

are straitened in your own affections ! " It is 
not Christ that narrows thee; it is the want of 
Christ. To whom does He say, " Go not into 
the way of the Gentiles " ! Is it to the de- 
veloped band of disciples? No, it is to the 
primitive band. It is to the men that have not 
yet seen the kingdom, the power, and the glory. 
But, my soul, if thou wilt reach the summit of 
Mount Moriah, it will be otherwise with thee. 
From the top of the hill thou shalt see the glory 
of the outspread land. Isaac shall be restored 
to thee on the mountain summit. Old limits 
shall be broken; old prohibitions shall be an- 
nulled. For thee the way of the Gentiles shall 
be opened. The freedom of the city shall be 
given thee— the freedom of the City of God. 
Thou shalt be lord of the Sabbath in fellowship 
with the Son of Man — thou shalt walk in the 
cornfields with untarnished holiness. Thine 
shall be the joys of Cana; thine shall be the 
joys of Bethany. For thee all the birds of Gali- 
lee shall sing; for thee all the flowers of Sharon 
shall bloom. The world shall be thine; life shall 
be thine; principalities and powers shall be 
thine. The river of God's pleasures shall give 



RETIREMENT 193 

thee back thy pleasures. The fountain of Divine 
life shall return the spray of the earthly sea. 
Thy surrendered Isaac shall meet thee at the 
top of the hill. 



i 9 4 TIMES OF 



" GOD'S HIGHEST GLORY " 

" Thou hast magnified Thy word above all Thy name.'* 

Psalm cxxxviii. 2. 

I UNDERSTAND the idea to be " Thou 
hast magnified Thy still voice in the soul 
above all Thy majesty in nature." The 
"name" of God means His "majesty;" the 
" word " of God means His " voice in the in- 
dividual soul." The Psalmist declares that the 
latter, unobtrusive as it is, is the most direct 
testimony to the Divine. I agree with the 
Psalmist ; and none the less because it is not the 
common opinion. The common opinion is that 
the sense of God's majesty in nature should 
dwarf our estimate of our own personal puny 
thoughts. I cannot receive this saying. I have 
heard it said that a study of astronomy must 
shake my faith in Christ — must reveal my tiny 
life over against a boundless universe — must 
make me say "What is man!" But I have 



RETIREMENT 195 

always felt that the greatest thing in the world 
is just an individual soul. I magnify one throb 
of consciousness above all the united masses of 
the material creation. There is nothing over- 
powering to my pride in vast spaces. All the 
spaces of the universe do not wake in me the 
wonder that I get from the experience of a 
single grief or joy. If I were told to a cer- 
tainty that these starry worlds were unin- 
habited, I think that, instead of looking up to 
them reverently, I should look down on them 
patronisingly. The only thing that keeps them 
up in my sky is the thought that perhaps in- 
dividual souls are there — that perhaps within 
them there dwells the resignation of a patient 
sufferer, or beats the hopeful heart of a little 
child. 

My soul, art thou trembling beneath the 
stars? Art thou oppressed by the weight of 
thine own nothingness? Art thou looking up 
into the night, with the Israelite of old, and 
saying " When I consider Thy heavens, how 
can there be room for man? Rather shouldst 
thou say " When I consider man, I find room 
for the heavens." It is thou that justiiiest the 



196 TIMES OF 

starry spaces. They have no magnificence to 
the heart if they be not the habitation of in- 
dividual souls. In vain we cast the eye over 
myriad fields of light, in vain we cast the tele- 
scope over fields beyond the eye, in vain we cast 
the imagination over fields beyond the tele- 
scope; the heart will still ask the question, " For 
whom is this glory ? " In vain the spaces 
sparkle if there be no sense of sight; in vain the 
lustre lingers if there be no sense of beauty; 
in vain the worlds are woven if there be no 
sense of home. Not light but love, not space 
but spirit, is the glory of thy Father. All the 
outgoings of the morning do not equal thy 
morning prayer. All the reflection of the eve- 
ning sun pales before the reflectiveness of thy 
evening hour. Thou mayst be an infant crying 
in the infinite night ; yet thine infancy is bigger 
than the night's infinitude. Magnify thine 
office, O my soul! 



RETIREMENT 197 



" AN AGNOSTICISM THAT NEED NOT 
DESPAIR " 

" Who is among you that feareth the Lord, that obey- 
eth the voice of His servant, that walketh in darkness, 
and hath no light? Let him trust in the name of the 
Lord." — Isaiah 1. 10. 

A GOD-FEARING agnostic !— that is an 
expression which one never hears in 
this world ; it seems a contradiction in 
terms. Yet in this passage a man is described 
in almost exactly these words. There is 
brought before us one who fears God, obeys the 
servant of God, and yet walks in darkness. 
When the prophet asks, " What man is he? " 
we are disposed to answer, " He is a creature 
of the imagination." And yet veriiy he is a 
creature of the street ; you will meet him every 
day. There is among us a man who keeps the 
law of Sinai, though he has never seen the 
smoke and flame of Sinai. He has no light 
from the mount; yet he stumbles very little 



198 TIMES OF 

on the plain. He is a sceptic about Elijah's 
chariot; but he ministers to Elijah's hunger. 
He does not say " Our Father, which art in 
heaven ; " but he makes an excellent son to his 
parents on earth. He does not attach himself 
to a church; but he is enrolled in the brother- 
hood of man. He does not speak the words, 
" Thy will be done ; " but he bears bravely many 
human ills. He prays not publicly for daily 
bread; but he answers many prayers of others 
for it. He supplicates not the Divine pardon; 
but he often asks pardon of his brother. How 
shall I account for this man? As the prophet 
seems to account for him. I think he is a crea- 
ture of unconscious faith — faith by heredity, 
faith derived from ancestors, faith so habitual 
to generations that its presence has ceased to be 
perceived. He is like a man in a room where a 
clock is ticking. He says he does not hear it; 
it is because he hears it too well. 

In the ranks of Thy great army, O Lord, 
there are souls that never consciously enlisted 
there. There are souls that have never taken 
the oath of allegiance, yet who follow Thy 
march up the arduous way. When I number 



RETIREMENT 199 

Thine army, I do not count these in — do not 
call them Thy soldiers. I am wrong! help me 
to revise my judgment ! I have read of Mary 
Magdalene meeting Thee at the sepulchre and 
taking Thee for the gardener. I have read of 
two disciples walking with Thee toward Em- 
maus and burning at Thy words, yet knowing 
not who spoke to them. Both Mary and the 
disciples would at that time have said, " I have 
not seen the risen Christ." Yet they had seen 
Thee, they had talked with Thee ; the Lord was 
in that place and they knew it not. Even so, 
there are many of us who are only on the 
Emmaus road. There are those who feel the 
burning at the heart, but attribute its enthusi- 
asm to human causes ; they know not that they 
speak with Thee. Thou shalt enroll them in 
Thy celestial army! They wrestle for Thee, 
like Jacob's angel, until the breaking of the 
day; but, again like Jacob's angel, they have as- 
sumed no name. Thou shalt give them a name; 
Thou shalt write Thy name upon their fore- 
heads ; Thou shalt fix their designation by pro- 
nouncing the words of blessing, " They shall be 
called the children of God." 



2oo TIMES OF 



"THE REJECTED OF THE WORLD" 

" They say unto Him, No man hath hired us. He saith 
unto them, Go ye also into the vineyard." — Matt, xx, 7. 

THE men here spoken of are the men 
standing idle in the market-place at 
the eleventh hour. They have come 
to the last hour of the working day, and still 
no man has hired them. Jesus employs the 
world's unemployed. He finds a place in the 
vineyard for those whom the world considers 
ineligible. Heaven has more trust in earth 
than earth has in herself. Why are so many 
standing idle at the eleventh hour? It is 
through the distrust of their fellows. There 
are more available workers in the world than 
man recognises. We neglect all lives that 
have at any time gone wrong. We will not 
trust the shipwrecked mariners with a second 
ship. We will not admit the possibility of fra- 
grance in the box of ointment which has been 



RETIREMENT 201 

broken. The life which has caught a stain is 
thereafter a banished life, a proscribed life, a 
life not to be utilised. Jesus has more faith 
in man. He refuses to disregard the men of 
the eleventh hour. He refuses to despair of 
those whom we have discarded. He insists in 
giving a chance to unlikely subjects. Has He 
not proved right! His greatest worker was a 
man of the eleventh hour — the man Paul. The 
fellow-labourers of that man would not look at 
him; but the risen Christ broke bread with 
him; the fragments that remained from that 
feast have been the spiritual food of the world ! 
O Thou Divine Love, I thank Thee for the 
depth of Thy hope for man ! Many of us be- 
long to the eleventh hour; we have been re- 
jected by our fellows; we have been turned 
from the threshold of the vineyard. We made 
a false step in the past; we committed some 
mistake in judgment; we yielded to some hour 
of temptation. And on the strength of that 
error the world has cast us out; there is no 
room in her vineyard for the feet that have 
stumbled. But there is room in Thine. Thou 
hast gone forth at the eleventh hour in soli- 



202 TIMES OF 

tude. There were no human hirers of labour 
at that hour; Thou hast trodden the winepress 
alone, and of the people there was none with 
Thee. The eleventh hour brought no bidders 
but Thee. Nobody will give work to Saul of 
Tarsus. Nobody will give work to the peni- 
tent thief. Nobody will give work to the late- 
coming Nicodemus. Their fellow-men are all 
afraid of them, are shrinking from them. But 
Thou art not afraid. Thou hast more trust in 
the world than the world has in itself. Thou 
hast gathered them in — the unlikely ones, the 
man-rejected ones. Thou hast risked what my 
brother would not risk. Thou hast put Thy 
trust in the soiled garment, in the besmeared 
robe, in the dilapidated visage. Thou hast ac- 
cepted the life at its lowest, the night at its 
darkest. Thou hast called human souls into 
the vineyard from the graveyard. I marvel at 
Thy faith, O Son of Man ! 



RETIREMENT 203 



"THE MORNING AND THE AFTER- 
NOON " 

" Ye shall go out with joy, and be led forth with peace." 

Isaiah lv. 12. 

IS there not a subsiding here! We go out 
with joy, but we are led onward with 
peace! Is not the transition from joy 
to peace a diminution of energy? No, it is a 
balance of energy. It is the change from a 
rapid river to a deep summer ocean. You 
might say, in a sense, that the rapid river sub- 
sides into the deep summer ocean; to subside 
means to sit down, and this is a sitting down. 
Yet, in its settled calm, the ocean has more 
energy than the river; no one would compare 
the extent of their powers. Human life ex- 
hibits some such transition. It passes from 
joy to peace. It begins with joy. It goes out 
into the world with youth's elastic step; it sees 
in anticipation a city whose streets are paved 



204 TIMES OF 

with gold. By and by the excitement ceases. 
The tints become more sober, the paths less 
roseate. Romance settles down into duty; 
daily work takes the place of heroic aspira- 
tion; joy becomes peace. Yet the duty is 
stronger than the romance; the daily work is 
more difficult than the heroic aspiration; the 
peace is more powerful than the joy. Love in 
the nest is better than love on the wing. It is 
less brilliant, but it has more energy. What 
is the test of energy? It is permanence. 
Peace is more permanent than joy. Joy flut- 
ters for an hour, but its very fluttering makes 
it weary; peace never moves its wing for flight, 
but in its quiet nest it can abide for ever. 

'My soul, it is so with thy life in Jesus! 
Thou, too, hast thy time of going out and 
thy time of quiet progress — thy period of joy 
and thy period of peace. At first thou art 
lifted up. Earth recedes from thy view and 
the inhabitants thereof become as grasshop- 
pers; it seems to thee as if thou couldst 
reach heaven ere nightfall. By and by thy 
wing becomes weary and thou fallest to the 
ground. Thou art compelled to tread the earth 



RETIREMENT 205 

once more. The golden streets of the New 
Jerusalem are exchanged for lane and alley. 
The prospect of heroic sacrifices is replaced by 
the call to trivial daily duty; and, instead of 
the command to bid the world good-bye, there 
comes the prosaic message, " Go, work to-day 
in my vineyard! " Rejoice, my soul! thy fall 
is a rise. Thy peace is larger than thy joy. 
Thy peace is better than thy poetry. Has a 
cloud hid thy Transfiguration glory? Weep 
not! that hiding is a revealing; it brings thee 
down to the plain. Is there silence in heaven 
for the space of half an hour ? Weep not ! the 
silence of the New Jersualem bells will let thee 
hear the sound of earth's many voices. The 
joy of the morning can make thee forget thy 
cares; but the peace of the afternoon recalls 
thee to the memory of the cares of man! 



2o6 TIMES OF 



"THE REMEDY FOR A WOUNDED 
HEART " 

" He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their 
wounds." — Psalm cxlvii. 3. 

THE setting of a broken limb does not 
involve an immediate healing of the 
wound. Neither does the setting of a 
broken heart. A broken heart is a heart whose 
movement is paralysed. It is a heart which 
has lost the use of its wing, and is incapacitated 
for locomotion ; it is unfit to take its part in the 
world. To heal the breakage is to restore its 
power of movement, and enable it to do its 
work in life. But to heal the breakage is not 
to heal the wound; that may still continue for 
a long time. Even Christ does not promise an 
immediate healing of the wound. But He 
promises an immediate binding of it. He 
promises to arrest the flow of its bleeding, so 
that we shall be able to move about in spite 



RETIREMENT 207 

of it, to do our work in spite of it. What is 
this wonderful ligament with which Christ 
binds the wounds of the once-broken heart? 
It is the sympathy with another's pain; it is 
the remembrance that I suffer not alone. The 
sympathy with my brother restrains my per- 
sonal outflow. It takes away the egotism of 
my grief. I no longer feel that a strange thing 
has befallen me. I no longer resent the rain- 
cloud as a special wrong. I feel that it is not 
special — that it is universal. It is the thought 
of this that stops the outward bleeding of my 
heart. It makes me refuse to show my wound. 
It forbids me to cry out in the streets as if I 
were a solitary sufferer. It says, " Think what 
your brother must feel; he has the same pains 
as you ! " It bids me count the burdens of the 
passers-by; and, as I count, I forget to remem- 
ber my own. 

Lord, when I am labouring, and heavy laden, 
bind me with Thy yoke! Nothing but Thy 
yoke can bind my wounds. Thy yoke is hu- 
manity — a sense of the common pain. There is 
nothing that will cover my personal scars like 
Thy Cross. Let me join the procession to Thy 



ao8 TIMES OF 

Cross; let me help Thee to bear it up the 
Dolorous Way ! Grant me the power to share 
Thy pain — the universal pain! Nothing else 
will bind my wounds. I have heard a singer 
tell how, when his burden fell into the sea, 
the sorrow of others overshadowed him. But 
Thine is the opposite order; the sorrows of 
others first overshadow me and then, my bur- 
den falls. In vain shall I stand on the bridge 
at midnight and gaze into the dark waters if 
all I see therein is the shadow of my own grief ! 
Reveal Thy shadow, O Christ — the shadow of 
humanity! Let me see in the water Thy 
marred visage — marred with the sorrows of 
Man! My heart will never cease to be hot 
and restless until I have felt the heat and rest- 
lessness of other hearts — the burden of Thy 
Cross. Thy shadow will bring me light. Thy 
darkness will bring me dawn. The carrying 
of Thy Cross will give lightness to my own. 
The pity for Thy tears will wipe all mine from 
the eyes. My bleeding wounds will be bound 
when I hear the words, " Good and faithful 
servant, enter thou into the pain of thy Lord ! " 



RETIREMENT 209 



"THE SAFEGUARD AGAINST 
DESPAIR " 

"Strengthen the things which remain." 

Rev. iii. 2. 

THERE are two courses which have 
been proposed as a safeguard against 
despair. The first and most common 
is the disparagement of the thing lost. It is 
the method of the fox in ^sop's fable; the 
grapes become sour when they are lifted out 
of reach. Many a schoolboy, when he loses 
the prize, says it is not worth having. Many 
a man when he fails to get an appointment 
says, " It is a poor thing; I wouldn't have 
taken it." To speak thus is to give loss a great 
victory. It is to assert that we have not only 
lost the object but have been deprived of our 
love for it. Never encourage such a sentiment ! 
I agree with Tennyson that it is better to keep 
your grief than to lose your love. But there 



2io TIMES OF 

is another way of avoiding despair when loss 
comes. It is the way prescribed by the man 
of Patmos — the man who was separated from 
his dearest by a cruel sea. Does he say that 
these things separated from him are not 
worth having? On the contrary, he longs for 
the time when there shall be " no more " sea. 
But meantime there is another refuge, a better 
refuge, than the sourness of the grapes re- 
moved from him; it is the sweetness of the 
grapes that are left to him. To all souls and 
to all Churches which have suffered loss he 
stretches out his hands, and cries, " Strengthen 
the things which remain ! " 

O thou who in the time of loss seest no ref- 
uge but either despair or disparagement, I 
show thee a more excellent way! I would 
not have thee disparage thy dead. I would not 
have thee drop them from thy memory as if 
they had never been. But I would have thee 
to turn memory into present love — to make 
thy remembrance of the dead a means of de- 
votion to the living. I have heard the child 
in Mrs. Hemans' poem say, " O while my 
brother with me played, would I had loved 



RETIREMENT 211 

him more! " It is a very pretty sentiment and 
a very common experience. But I do not think 
the full moral is given when the child in this 
poem is told " Thy brother is in heaven." If 
we stop with that statement we nip in the bud 
the aspiration after better conduct. I would 
say to the child : " You have other playmates 
who are still on earth. They, too, may be soon 
called from you. Whenever you think of how 
much more you might have done for the 
brother you have lost, remember those play- 
mates who remain ! Remember that when they 
go you will have the same remorse for them; 
try as much as you can to love them now ! " So 
would I say to the child; and so, my brother, 
I say to thee. Sink not in despair at the 
memory of thy shortcomings to those whom 
thou canst help no longer ! Turn that memory 
into present love! Remember those whom 
thou canst help! Remember the children that 
are still playing in the market-place ! Remem- 
ber the needs that can still be met, the wrongs 
that can still be righted ! Remember the hands 
that still are unwarmed, the feet that still are 
weary, the hearts that still are sad! Remem- 



212 TIMES OF 

ber to say the word of kindness today! Love 
the more deeply because death has a deep 
shadow! Lavish upon the morning what the 
night may prevent thee from giving! 
Strengthen, strengthen the things which re- 
main! 



RETIREMENT 213 



"THE SPHERE WHERE CALM IS 
ESSENTIAL " 

"Let not your heart be troubled." — John xiv. I. 

TROUBLED things are not always on 
that account unbeautiful. Why do 
we find more beauty in the sea than 
in a pool? Just because it is more capable of 
being troubled. Why do we find more beauty 
in a strong intellect than in a weak one ? Just 
because it is more capable of being troubled. 
The unrest of a material object and the un- 
rest of a human intellect is the sign of energy. 
But the unrest of a heart is not. The unrest of 
a heart is the sign of want of energy. The 
sea shows its power in a storm; the intellect 
shows its power in a difficulty; but the heart 
only shows its power in a great calm. The 
heart's power is the heart's fixedness. The 
glory of a ship is its ability to sail; but the 
glory of a heart is its ability to lie at anchor — 



214 TIMES OF 

to be moored somewhere. My heart has no 
strength when it is sailing in search of har- 
bour; it is only strong when it is cabled to the 
shore. I have read that an angel came down to 
trouble a pool; but I am never told that an 
angel came down to trouble a heart. Many 
things trouble the heart, but none of them are 
angels. It needs a cloudless trust, a sure con- 
fidence, a settled calm. It needs not only to 
love, but to be loved, and to know that it is 
loved. Doubt of love's reality is the heart's 
paralysis; despair of love's reality is the heart's 
death. Whatever else be tossed upon life's sea, 
let not your heart be troubled! 

I thank Thee, O Lord, that Thou hast been 
so solicitous for the peace of my heart! It 
proves to me that Thou hast prepared a place 
for my love. Thou wouldst never have said, 
" Let not thy heart be troubled ! " if Thou 
hadst no place for my love. How could my 
heart be calm if love were a finite thing, a per- 
ishable thing! If Thou hadst no mansion for 
my love, it were mockery to say, " Let not your 
heart be troubled ! " My heart cannot be quiet 
amid autumn leaves; it can build no nest in the 



RETIREMENT 215 

cemetery. Therefore Thy words can only 
mean, " Put away your fear of the cemetery; 
your heart shall be satisfied — satisfied ever- 
more!" I thank Thee for that promise! My 
heart cannot vibrate until it is satisfied. Other 
sides of my being vibrate best when unsatisfied. 
My aspirations come from my mind's hunger. 
My fancy is a cry for something more than I 
have. My desire for knowledge is wakened 
by what I do not know. But my heart is 
wakened by what it possesses. Its pulses can- 
not beat in uncertainty. It cannot work till 
it " rests from its labours." It must be satis- 
fied early in the morning — ere it goes out to 
the toils of the day. I bless Thee for that 
morning glow! I bless Thee that before the 
journey Thou hast led my heart to the foun- 
tain! I bless Thee that its vision of heaven 
has preceded its walk on earth! I bless Thee 
that it has seen eternity ere it has compassed 
time! Only the untroubled heart can walk 
upon the troubled sea; therefore I praise Thee 
for this antecedent calm! 



216 TIMES OF 



" THE INADEQUACY OF MERE 
SURROUNDINGS " 

" There was war in heaven; the dragon fought, and 
his angels." — Revelation xii. 7. 

AND so an environment is not sufficient 
to make one good or to make one 
happy! We hear a great deal in our 
days about environment being everything. 
The man who wrote the Apocalypse had a 
different idea, and he expresses it very forcibly. 
He takes the finest environment that ever 
was conceived — heaven. He pictures it in all 
its beauty — with its pearly streets and golden 
gates — with its rivers clear as crystal, and its 
fountains of living water, and its trees of 
luscious fruit, and its population of holy an- 
gels. Into this paradise he introduces a second 
company — a band of unholy angels. One 
would think this new band had every chance, 
with such fine scenery and such godly compan- 



RETIREMENT 217 

ions. But it is all in vain. In a brief space 
they have made a hell of heaven! They have 
found their surroundings quite intolerable! It 
is a striking picture! They have actually got 
into heaven! They have seen the environ- 
ment of the redeemed! They have gazed on 
the white robes! They have caught the spray 
of the fountains! They have basked in the 
light that has no setting! And yet they are in 
misery, in unrest; in the land of peace they 
are at war ! 

Art thou sure, my brother, that heaven 
would to thee be a state of peace? It is not 
enough for thee that there be a crystal river 
and a sparkling fountain. It is no guarantee 
for thy peace that there be green leaves and 
rich fruits. There are states of mind in which 
beauty itself is a thing on which we make war. 
If heaven were promised thee to-day, wouldst 
thou write down thy name among the saved? 
To do so might be premature. The dragon 
and his bad angels had more than a promise 
of heaven; they had actually got in. But they 
were not happy in. They brought their misery 
in with them. All the powers of nature had 



2i8 TIMES OF 

combined to make them glad; all the powers of 
mind were already theirs; but their hearts were 
not at rest. And because their hearts were not 
at rest, their heaven was not at rest; the sea 
of glass looked stormy. So would it look to 
thee if thou hadst not rest within. In vain 
the glassy sea would meet thine eye! In vain 
the golden harps would greet thine ear! In 
vain the luscious fruits would touch thy lips! 
In vain the smile of Christ would seek thy 
soul ! If that soul were in unrest, it would see 
in heaven nothing but war; the trees would 
whisper it, the streams would murmur it, the 
birds would warble it. The scene through 
which thou travellest is half-painted by thyself; 
it takes the colours of thine own heart. If thou 
bringst lurid colours into God's dwelling place, 
the sacred courts will catch the lurid glow. 
Come not without the wedding garment! 
Come not without the antecedent joy! Come 
not without a song learned from the lessons 
of earth! Come not without an olive branch 
from the waters of the flood ! If there be peace 
on earth, there will be no war in heaven! 



RETIREMENT 219 



"THE SANCTIFYING OF WORLDLY 
GIFTS " 

"She brake the box," — Mark xiv. 3. 

IT is the alabaster box of ointment that is 
spoken of. I have often asked myself, 
why did she break it? I can see why 
she poured out all the ointment; a heart so de- 
voted could never have given to Jesus by 
halves. But why destroy the costly vessel that 
held it? Surely that was a thing she might 
have kept for herself ? No, she could not. She 
had no use for it after Christ had been served. 
Love counts nothing a treasure which it cannot 
spend upon its object. When its object is 
anointed, all the wealth of Ophir is super- 
fluous. This woman broke the costly thing, 
not because she was indifferent to money, but 
because the aim of her money was achieved. 
That aim was the anointing of Jesus. As long 
as Jesus was not anointed she strove eagerly 



220 TIMES OF 

for this earthly treasure. I have no doubt 
she spent a long time in gathering for its pur- 
chase. Perhaps many said, " What a miser 
she is ! " Measured by the eye, she might 
seem to have the greed of gold. But her gold 
only glittered in the light of Jesus. It was 
for Him she gathered; it was for Him she 
saved. She made rich for His anointing. 
When the anointing was complete, the gold 
lost its glitter. Wealth ceased to have an ob- 
ject. She gave up gathering; she gave up 
saving. She had no interest in the alabaster 
when it had served its purpose for Christ; she 
brake the box. 

My brother, what gives thee a title to pray 
for worldly weaith ? It is thy love for Christ — 
for humanity. I would bid thee aspire to the 
gifts of earth if I were sure they would be 
sought for Jesus. I would say, "Keep the 
alabaster box as long as there are weary feet to 
be anointed, as long as there are bruised hearts 
to be refreshed ! " All such weary feet are His 
feet, all such bruised hearts are His heart; 
what thou doest to the least thou doest unto 
Him. Gather thy gifts for Him! The man- 



RETIREMENT 221 

ger still holds the members of His body; the 
swaddling bands still wrap the Christ that 
is to be. Are there none from the east or from 
the west to bring gold or frankincense or 
myrrh ? Are there none to sing songs of Beth- 
lehem to those who watch by night — to cheer 
the sleepless invalid in the ward of pain ? Are 
there none to take the persecuted child into 
Egypt — to find a house of refuge for those re- 
jected by the world? Are there none to pro- 
vide a home at Nazareth for the growth of the 
coming Jesus? Are there none to minister to 
the life that has been assailed in the wilderness 
of temptation ? Would not the power be worth 
living for, worth praying for! Live for such 
wealth, pray for such wealth! Covet, for 
Christ's sake, each gift of body, each gift of 
mind ! Tune the harp for Him ; train the voice 
for Him; twine the wreath for Him; plant the 
flower for Him; weave the garment for Him; 
keep thy hold on the world for Him! Break 
not the alabaster box till thou hast anointed 
Jesus ! 



222 TIMES OF 



"THE UNUTTERED COIN" 

" Though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and 
have not charity, it proiiteth me nothing. — I Cor. xiii. 3. 

WHAT Paul means is, that no mate- 
rial donation is equal in value to a 
wish of the heart. That is a very 
startling statement. It is not our common 
view. You meet a ragged beggar. You give 
him a coin. As he departs, a sense of deep 
pity rises in your heart, and follows him down 
the street. You feel what a short way your 
coin will go to make the man happy; you 
breathe the prayer, " God help the poor crea- 
ture ! " Your opinion is that this last part of 
the transaction does not count. Paul says it is 
in God's sight the part which counts for most. 
What He calls your charity is not the thing 
bestowed, but the thing you would like to be- 
stow. He measures your munificence, not by 
your gift, but by your sympathy. I have read 



RETIREMENT 223 

in the Acts that He set up in heaven a monu- 
ment to Cornelius for his charitable prayers. 
The man who gets the grandest monument in 
heaven is the man whose love goes beyond his 
contributions. However big his contributions 
be, his love must go beyond them. No gift 
should be able to express the whole heart; if it 
does, the heart must be small. At the moment 
when you have given your best, your love cries, 
" It is nothing to what I should like to do! " 
And the Father says, " This unuttered coin 
is the measure of you; to this unspoken sym- 
pathy I will raise a monument.'' 

Build to my love, O Father, build to my 
love! Not by what I can do for my brother 
do Thou judge me! My deeds are paltry and 
poor. What can the pebble do that I cast into 
the sea of human misery ! It cannot lessen the 
depth of that sea. But my heart is bigger than 
my hand; build to my heart! My love is 
stronger than my leading; build to my love! 
The Psalmist prayed that Thou wouldst ac- 
cept all his burnt offerings. There is not one 
of mine worth accepting! But Thou hast 
promised to accept the unuttered coin, the 



224 TIMES OF 

sympathy that cannot speak. I have seen in 
Thy heaven a monument raised to the munifi- 
cence of a pauper ! I marvelled at the paradox. 
I could not understand how Thou shouldst 
commemorate the munificence of one who lived 
in a garret and received her bread from the 
pity of the crowd. But I forgot Thy measure- 
ment of munificence. I forgot that the heart of 
a pauper might have golden wishes for hu- 
manity. I forgot that it is to the heart's gold 
the heavenly tablet is raised. Help me to re- 
member that gold, O Lord! When I feel my 
earthly nothingness, when I deplore my human 
poverty, help me to remember that gold! 
When I lament that I am a burden, help me to 
remember that gold ! When I murmur against 
my uselessness, when I bemoan my forced in- 
action, when I spurn the invalid couch on 
which I am compelled to lie, help me to remem- 
ber that gold ! Let me see the riches of the un- 
uttered coin, of the wwspoken sympathy; let 
me behold the monument Thou hast erected to 
munificent prayer! Let me learn that the high- 
est subscriber is the donor of love! 



RETIREMENT 225 



"THE EMANCIPATION FROM 
SCHOOL " 

"Having abolished the law of commandments con- 
tained in ordinances/' — Ephesians ii. 15. 

WHEN a boy finally leaves the class- 
room the methods of school are for 
him abolished. He forgets the old 
rules for doing things. He adds up his sums 
in the office by a much quicker process than 
that used in the class. He speaks good gram- 
mar without remembering one rule of syntax. 
He modulates his voice without recalling one 
precept of the elocution master. He acts with 
perfect politeness without recollecting a sin- 
gle passage from the book of etiquette. So, 
too, is it in Christ's world. When I reach the 
spirit of Christ I forget the old rules for being 
good. I have heard a child say, "I am tired 
of being good ! " I do not wonder at such 
a speech. Everything committed to memory 



226 TIMES OF 

by rule is essentially tiresome. Goodness is 
no exception. If I have to count every morn- 
ing how many kind things I shall do for my 
brother during the day, I shall be very weary 
ere the day is done. But when there comes 
to me that one thing called love, I cease to be 
careful and troubled about the many things. 
Love gives me the instinct of the bee. It be- 
comes my immediate monitor. It abolishes 
rules. It guides me by the impulse of the mo- 
ment. It says: Take no thought what you 
shall speak. Love will tell you on the spot 
what you shall speak. You will be like the 
lily of the field — growing spontaneously, like 
the bird of the air — singing unconsciously. 
Your goodness will be innate, and therefore 
irrepressible. You will have no need to com- 
mit the ten commandments; grace in the heart 
can dispense with stores in the memory ; Moses 
can leave the mount when Christ appears. 

O Love, Divine Love, set me free from the 
yoke of weariness ! Thy yoke is easy and Thy 
burden is light! Thou canst make me an in- 
stinctive thinker, a spontaneous worker, an ex- 
temporaneous speaker. The schoolmaster can 



RETIREMENT 227 

lead me into the paths of rightousness ; but 
when he leads me thither, the pastures are not 
green and the waters are not quiet. Thou, 
O Love, canst make the pastures green; Thou, 
canst make the waters quiet! With Thee I 
shall run and not be weary; with Thee I shall 
walk and not faint. I shall not count how 
often I must forgive my brother; I shall for- 
give him only once — once for all. I shall not 
weep that I am taxed for the poor; I shall deem 
it a privilege to pay., I shall not Congratulate 
myself that I was absent from a scene of 
misery; I shall feel bound to seek out that 
scene. I shall not ask nervously whether a 
task is commanded in the Bible; if it is com- 
manded in my heart, I shall anticipate the 
Bible. I shall be dead to the law when Thou 
shalt come. I shall tear up the old rules when 
Thou shalt come. I shall abolish the school 
lessons when Thou shalt come. I shall enter 
life's playground when Thou shalt come. I 
shall be free as a bird when Thou shalt come. 
Even so come, Divine Love, come quickly! 



228 TIMES OF 



" THE TEST OF SELF-EMPTYING " 

"In that day there shall be a fountain opened to the 
inhabitants of Jerusalem for sin and for uncleanness." 

Zechariah xiii. I. 

A FOUNTAIN of sacrifice opened in 
Jerusalem! a sacrificial fountain in 
the midst of a town, in the centre of 
the world's roar and traffic! — that is a strange 
thing. Yes, in religious life it is a hitherto 
unprecedented thing; it will only be found in 
Christ. All faiths have a fountain — a place 
of sacrifice. But the faith of Christ alone has 
a fountain in Jerusalem — the scene of temp- 
tation. Other faiths call me to sacrifice by 
calling me to leave the world; Christ calls me 
to sacrifice by keeping me in the world. My 
experience in Christ is no longer the experience 
of Abraham. I am not bidden to manifest my 
sacrifice by seeking the solitary place, the 
lonely hour. I am not bidden to get up early 



RETIREMENT 229 

in the morning when the world is asleep, to 
ascend to the hill-top where my brother is un- 
seen. No, I am told to go into the city where 
my brother is. I am told that if I am seeking 
a sacrificial mission I shall best find it in the 
street — where the people gather, where the 
crowds jostle, where man competes with man. 
Not where the forest stretches, not where the 
desert lies, am I now to thread my way. The 
wood of the true Cross is not there. It is 
where man dwells, where life dwells, where 
conflict dwells. Is it not written that the voice 
of Christ is " like the sound of many waters " ! 
And truly this is His glory. He leads us 
into " sounding " places — into places of noise 
and bustle. He brings us to the marriage feast, 
to the marketplace, to the kingdoms of the 
^world, to the buyers and sellers in life's temple, 
to the jealousies of disciples, to the friction 
with opponents, to the competing interests of 
all. Our course is there because His Cross is 
there. 

My soul, thine altar is at Jerusalem! It is 
easy for thee to feel humble in the vast forest. 
Thou art then alone with thy Father. Thou 



230 TIMES OF 

art never tempted to compete with thy Father; 
thou fallest prostrate before Him. But amid 
the inhabitants of Jerusalem, amid the con- 
course of thy fellow-men, amid the rivalry of 
those who seem thine inferiors — it is hard to 
be humble then! It is easy to bend before the 
stars; it is easy to stoop beneath the dome of 
heaven. But to stoop to thy brother-man, to 
feel thy nothingness when Lazarus is begging 
at thy gate — this is the victory over pride — 
this, this is humility ! To be poor in spirit in 
the presence of the kingdoms of earth, to be 
meek in the presence of the crouching, to be 
merciful to faults beneath thy nature, to make 
peace when thine adversary is weak, to mourn 
thy shortcomings when thou art the magnet of 
attraction to hundreds — this is the blessing 
of the mount, for this is the humility of the 
plain! There is no fountain so hard to bathe 
in as the fountain at Jerusalem. 



RETIREMENT 231 



" THE LATEST VOICE OF GOD " 

"He shall not speak from Himself." 

John xvi. 13. 

IT is the Holy Spirit that is here spoken of 
— the ripest fruit of the religious life. 
I take the meaning of the passage to be 
that, when religion in the soul is perfected, 
it will not have a voice separate from other 
things, but will Mend with all the voices of 
nature. In the early stages religion is apart 
from other things. We distinguish, in those 
days, between nature and grace, secular and 
sacred, world and Church, week-day and Sab- 
bath. The voice of God does not come to us 
through the events of the common hour; it 
speaks " from itself " — from its own lofty 
height in the heavens. To hear it we must 
come out from the madding crowd into a region 
of purer air and more seraphic rest. So is it 
at the beginning. But our Lord says there is 



232 TIMES OF 

a time coming when we shall think differently. 
He says there is a time coming when the voice 
of God shall not speak " from itself," but shall 
send its message through secular voices. There 
is a time coming when the services of religion 
shall not be limited to the sanctuary, when 
piety shall not be confined to prayer, when 
psalmody shall not be monopolised by the 
psalter. There is a time coming when the voice 
of the Spirit shall call from the windows of 
man's house. It shall call from the scenes of 
nature; it shall call from the heights of poetry; 
it shall call from the galleries of art. It shall 
speak from the crowded marketplace; it shall 
speak from the seat of custom, and from the 
wheels of traffic. It shall sound from the 
haunts of pleasure; from the dance and the 
music; from the holiday and the feast. No 
spot shall be without an altar, no scene shall 
escape a sacrifice; for the Cross that once was 
planted only at Jerusalem shall be carried to 
Cana of Galilee. 

Hasten that time, O Lord — the time when 
all things shall carry Thy message ! Thy mes- 
sage as yet can only come to me from Thyself; 



RETIREMENT 2 33 

I can only hear it in Thine own house. It is 
to Thy house that I go for revelation. It is 
within the walls of Thy temple that I look 
for the rending of the veil. I think of the 
world's voices as drowning Thy voice; it never 
occurs to me that they may be Thy telegrams. 
Tomorrow I shall know it — when Thy spirit 
shall come. Tomorrow I shall learn a new 
experience; the world itself shall reveal Thee. 
Thou shalt speak to me in voices not Thine 
own — voices which I used to call secular. 
Thou shalt speak to me in babbling brook and 
murmuring stream. I shall hear Thee in sigh- 
ing wind and plashing fountain. I shall catch 
the tread of Thy feet in the haunts of the 
scientist; in what men call evolution I shall 
hear Thee climbing the hill. On every mount 
of aspiration I shall listen to Thy preaching; 
on every pinnacle of temptation I shall listen 
to Thy warning; in every valley of humiliation 
I shall listen to Thy Garden prayer. In all 
breaking of bread I shall see Thy hand. In 
all healing of pain I shall feel Thy touch. In 
all stilling of passion I shall read Thy mandate. 
In all marriage feasts I shall seek Thy pres- 



234 TIMES OF 

ence. In all dreams of youth I shall behold 
Thy dove descending. In all Magdalene 
homes I shall hear Thy words of pardon. In 
all children's hospitals I shall discern Thine 
outstretched arms. Thy voice shall be the 
world's voice in the sweet by and by! 



RETIREMENT 235 



"THE PLACE FOR RELIGIOUS 
RESEARCH " 

" Canst thou by searching find out God.'* 

Job xi. 7. 

NO; and why? Because I never begin 
to search for Him until I have found 
Him ; God alone can create the search 
for God. That is the great difference between 
things material and things spiritual. In 
material things the search precedes the rinding; 
in spiritual things the finding precedes the 
search. When a man goes out to seek for 
gold you may infer that he is materially poor, 
but when a man goes out to seek for God you 
may conclude that he is spiritually rich. In 
the case of the gold we see the shadow before 
we touch the substance; in our experience of 
God we first touch the substance and then see 
the shadow. When a child stretches out its 
hand and cries for the moon it is seeking 



236 TIMES OF 

something which it will never find; but when a 
man stretches out his hand and cries for holi- 
ness he is seeking something which he has 
found already. No man can pray for the 
Divine Spirit except by the voice of that Spirit. 
Why is our Father so eager that we should 
pray for the kingdom? Is it because our 
prayer for goodness will make us good? No, 
it is because our prayer for goodness proves 
us to be good already. When did Abraham 
begin to search for the land of Canaan ? When 
he got into it. He wandered up and down seek- 
ing the promised country; and he was there all 
the time, folded in her bosom. So is it with 
us. We long for Canaan when we stand in 
Canaan. We cry for love when we have 
learned love. We pray for purity when we 
have tasted purity. We feel our distance from 
God when God is at the door. 

My brother, have you considered these 
words, " Behold, He cometh with clouds ! " 
It is not " in clouds." The idea is that He is 
to bring the clouds with Him — that His com- 
ing is to create the sense of distance from Him, 
the search for Him. It was when the Samari- 



RETIREMENT 237 

tan woman met Jesus that she first began her 
questionings. I do not think she had ever be- 
fore troubled herself with matters theological. 
There is a mist which is the sign, not of rain, 
but of heat; it is the morning messenger of a 
coming day of brightness. So is it with the 
intellectual mists of your spirit; they mean 
heat. Yesterday, you were indifferent; you 
neither believed nor disbelieved — you never 
thought of the matter. Today, you begin to 
doubt, to search, to enquire; clouds and dark- 
ness are to you round about Him. Some will 
tell you that your today is worse than your 
yesterday. They are wrong; do not believe 
them. It is heat that makes your mist; it is 
light that makes your cloud. " Where is He 
that is born King of the Jews ? " asked the 
scientists of olden times; but why? Because 
they had seen the star. They sought Christ 
because His light had come. Even so shall it 
be with you. You will journey to Jerusalem 
when you have seen the star; you will seek the 
manger when you have heard the songs of 
Bethlehem. Your search will follow your 
finding. Be not cast down that, in the after- 



238 TIMES OF 

noon of the day, you are only a seeker for God; 
for the treasure you seek in the field is already 
in the dwelling, and the spade with which you 
dig is made of the gold you desire. 



RETIREMENT 239 



I 



"THE SECRET OF CHRISTIAN 
STOOPING " 

" Despising the shame." — Hebrews xii. 2. 

N well-known lines Dr. Watts declares 
that the Cross of Christ leads to hu- 
mility. 

u When I survey the wondrous cross 
On which the Prince of Glory died, 
My richest gain I count but loss, 
I pour contempt on all my pride." 

Yet I am not sure that he has given the exact 
account of the matter. It is quite true that the 
Cross of Christ makes a man stoop to menial 
things; but why? Simply because he is no 
longer ashamed of them. It is not that he has 
less sense of dignity; it is rather because he 
feels that the stooping to menial things has 
ceased to take down his dignity. Many a boy 
demurs to carry a bag through a fashionable 
locality; a district nurse will bear it anywhere. 



240 TIMES OF 

Is that because the district nurse is more hum- 
ble than the boy? Assuredly not. It is 
because the thing which makes the boy feel 
ashamed makes her feel more dignified. I 
would say that the love of Christ does not make 
us feel more humble, but makes us feel 
ashamed of fewer things; it reduces the sources 
of our humility. It enables me to walk erect 
through scenes where yesterday I should have 
crept stealthily. It is not on my conscious 
dignity I pour contempt; it is on my false 
shame. I am ever proud of my love; but that 
very pride makes me deem nothing menial. 
The more servile be the work for my Christ, 
the prouder I am to do it. I feel exalted in 
proportion as my service bends me. I endure 
the cross because I despise the shame. 

I am not ashamed of Thy gospel, O Christ ! 
It has not killed my sense of dignity; I am 
proud to minister to Thee. Not because I feel 
my nothingness do I stoop to work which men 
call menial; it is because I despise the shame. 
My love has turned the shame into glory. I feel, 
like Paul, that " love maketh not ashamed " 
— removes the sense of shame. It is not de- 



RETIREMENT 241 

pression that drives me into servile work; it 
is elation, it is upliftedness. I love Thee — I 
love Thee! — I love Thee! and I want to do 
something for Thee! It is not the crouching, 
but the swelling, of my heart that sends me 
down into the valley. My heart's ambition is 
to descend; my love's aspiration is to go down. 
I would be the servant of the slave for Thee. 
I would rather walk with Thee through the 
mire than without Thee through bowers of 
roses. I should feel more regal with garments 
soiled for Thee than in robes whose selfish- 
ness has kept them from a stain. It is my 
pride that cries out for the valley. It is my 
joy that makes me serve. It is my buoyancy 
that bears the burden. It is the singing of my 
heart that makes me forget the toil. It is not 
the cringing soul that can tread Thy lowly way ! 



242 TIMES OF 



"THE MARRIAGE OF PRAYER AND 
ALMSGIVING " 

" Thy prayers and thine alms are come up for a 
memorial before God." — Acts x. 4. 



ari PI HY prayers and thine alms." What 
a singular combination! Are not 
these two contrary things ! Is not 
prayer a desire to get; is not the offer of alms 
a desire to give! How can a man receive a 
monument for opposing qualities! My 
brother, these are not opposing qualities. All 
prayer must be a giving of something. You 
are not justified in making it a mere desire to 
get. When you are about to ask anything of 
your Father, you ought to pause for a moment. 
Before making a request to your Father, you 
should give your sympathy to your fellow-man; 
you should say — " How would the granting of 
this to me affect him? Let me remember his 
wants ere I satisfy my own ! " That is what I 



RETIREMENT 243 

understand our Lord to mean by the command 
— " When thou bringest thine offering to the 
altar and thou rememberest that thy brother 
hath aught against thee, leave thine offering 
unsurrendered; first be reconciled to thy 
brother ! " When you come to the altar of 
worship to offer up your prayer, ask yourself 
first of all whether the granting of your wish 
would be against the interest of your neigh- 
bour; and if your heart says " Yes," do not 
present that prayer to-day. Leave it on the 
steps of the altar. Go back to secular life again. 
Seek a meeting with your neighbour. Adjust 
your respective claims. Try if his interest can 
be made compatible with yours. If it can, you 
may go forward to the altar once more. Your 
prayer will then be unsullied, pure. There will 
be nothing mean in it, nothing sordid, nothing 
self-seeking. It will be such a prayer as you 
can present without shame in the presence of 
the ministrant angels, in the presence of re- 
deeming Love. 

O Thou Divine Love, tune my prayers to 
the songs of Thy heart! Let my first thought 
in the hour of prayer be, not a getting, but a 



244 TIMES OF 

giving ! Before I say " The Lord will provide 
for me " let me seek to provide for my brother ! 
Let me ask nothing in my own name — noth- 
ing which does not include my fellow-man ! On 
the threshold to every prayer teach me to say 
" Our Father ! " Let all my petitions be for 
two — myself and humanity! Let me ask, not 
" my daily bread," but " our daily bread " ! 
If my district is in drought, let me not ask uni- 
versal rain ! Let me pause to consider whether 
my want is felt by other districts; it may be 
that elsewhere the soil is crying for the sun! 
Let my almsgiving precede my prayer! Ere 
looking at my own parched land, let me re- 
member my brother's sodden field! Let me 
hear the voice of his blood crying from the 
flooded ground ! Make my prayer from begin- 
ning to end a duet! Let it ever have two 
voices — my brother's and mine! Let its first 
note be "Our Father;" let its last be "De- 
liver us from evil ! " Thy heart will be glad 
when Thou hearest the harmonious music — 
when the prayer and the alms go up together. 






RETIREMENT 2.45 



" THE MARRIAGE OF PRAYER AND 
JOY" 

" Rejoice evermore; pray without ceasing." 

1 Thessalonians v. 16, 17. 

JOY and prayer — these are strange allies — 
strange elements for perpetual union. 
To rejoice evermore and to> pray without 
ceasing— are not these contradictory acts ? Are 
not joy and prayer opposite things? Is not 
joy a sense of fulness ; is not prayer a sense of 
want? How can these both go on for ever? 
Must not the advent of perfect joy be the death 
of prayer? No, not if you speak of Christ's 
joy. Christ's joy is love — fulness of love. 
But what is fulness of love but fulness of 
want? What is my love for you but my want 
of you, my need of you, my insufficiency with- 
out you ! All love is a great prayer. Its very 
joy is the joy of insufficiency. Love is the cry 
of my soul for a companion soul. Love is the 



246 TIMES OF 

declaration that I am unsatisfied with myself. 
I do not say ^satisfied; I need not be that. 
What I feel is a sense of incompleteness. The 
creation of my heart is unfinished, and I crave 
its finishing. When I clasp the hand of a 
friend I experience a joy ; but the joy is also a 
want — a pain. In that moment I am coming 
out from myself, abandoning myself. I am 
confessing that to dwell within myself is to be 
in a land of famine, to feed upon the husks. 
The deeper my love is, the deeper is my sense 
of want, my need of another. I am least con- 
tent with myself when my joy is most full. 

Let then, O Lord, my joy and my prayer be 
knit in eternal union; may both be among life's 
unceasing things ! May I " rejoice evermore," 
and yet " pray without ceasing; " may nothing 
ever break the marriage tie ! I should not like 
to have an eternal joy which excluded eternal 
prayer. I thank Thee that Thou hast provided 
an eternal joy which is compatible with eternal 
prayer. Let me enter into this joy of my Lord! 
Give me that Divine joy called love — that joy 
which is a hunger of the heart. I have read 
that on the great day of the world's feast Thou 



RETIREMENT 247 

didst stand in the midst and cry, " I thirst ! " 
That was both Thy fulness and Thy want. The 
fulness of love is the heart's deepest hunger. 
Thine was the fulness of love; Thine was the 
heart's deepest hunger; Thy joy made Thy 
prayer. Let me enter into Thy joy; let me 
enter into Thy prayer! When my joy shall be 
Divine, my want shall be Divine too. I shall 
thirst most when I reach Thy glory, for Thy 
glory is love. I shall hunger most when I reach 
Thy fulness, for Thy fulness is love. I shall 
pray most when I reach Thy joy, for Thy joy 
is love. I shall be least self-satisfied when I 
am nearest to Thy sun, for Thy sun is love. 
When I can rejoice for evermore I shall pray 
without ceasing. 



248 TIMES OF 



" CHRISTIAN RESIGNATION " 

""/ was dumb, I opened not my mouth; because Thou 
didst it." — Psalm xxxix. 9. 



CCW WAS dumb because Thou didst it " — 
because the calamity was sent by 
Infinite Love. And so Christian res- 
ignation is not despair but hope! I have been 
all wrong in my view of it ! I thought it was 
prostration; I see it is energy. I thought it 
was the heart sleeping; I see it is the heart on 
the wing. I see that the glory of the Psalm- 
ist's resignation is not his speechlessness; it is 
the reason for his speechlessness. " I opened 
not my mouth because Thou didst it." It 
is a very easy thing to be dumb in the ex- 
perience of suffering; I think it is the easiest 
of all things. The most common effect of grief 
is a paralysing one. But Christian resignation 
is the absence of paralysis. It comes not from 
loss of power, but from the influx of power. 



RETIREMENT 249 

It is not the submission to a cross; it is the 
submission to a crown. It is not the wearing 
of a thorn; it is the wearing of a flower. It 
is not the crushing of a will ; it is the birth of a 
fresh willingness. Not because I am a poor 
creature does Christ bid me be resigned; it is 
because I am a rich creature, with the hope of 
treasures untold. " Because Thou didst it " 
— because the shadow is a bit of the sun, be- 
cause the seeming discord is the weaving of a 
melody, because the calamity is the disguise of 
love! 

Lord, teach me the meaning of a resigned 
heart ! Men tell me it means " to give up 
human love." Teach me that it comes through 
the stimulus to human love ! Why dost Thou 
bid me dry my tears? Is it the command to 
accept my pain ? No, it is the command to re- 
ject it, to repudiate it, to disbelieve in it. It 
is the command to believe that, seen from other 
skies, my calamity wears another colour, a 
brighter colour. Be mine that resignation, O 
Lord ! I would not be dumb through despair, 
as the Buddhist is. I would not be dumb 
through apathy, as the Stoic it. I would not 



2 so TIMES OF 

be dumb through satiety, as the Worldling is. 
I would not be dumb through witheredness, as 
the Cynic is. I would not be dumb by having 
my heart emptied in any form. I would be 
dumb by having my heart quickened, deepened. 
Many can say to my soul, " Peace, be still ! " 
but Thou alone canst say it without killing 
the life. I refuse to be resigned except through" 
Thee. I will not be content to suffer wrong; 
but I will be content to wait for the right. I 
will bear if Thou didst it. I will not bear if 
Pilate did it, if Herod did it, if Caiaphas did it, 
if chance or accident or fortune did it. I yield, 
not to loss, but to love. I surrender, not to 
despair, but to hope. I bend, not to the yes- 
terday, but to the morrow. I still the tempest 
of my heart, not in the presence of the waters, 
but in the presence of the rainbow. I cease to 
cry, not because I accept the night, but because 
I see the star. I fold my hands to no calamity, 
but to the wings of the coming morning. If 
my heart is stayed, it is stayed only in Thee! 



RETIREMENT 251 



" PENALTY AND PARDON " 

"Esau found no place of repentance, though he sought 
it carefully with tears." — Hebrews xii. 17. 
" / go to prepare a place." — John xiv. 2. 

IT is not said that Esau " found no repent- 
ance," but that he (C found no place for re- 
pentance." His repentance was abund- 
antly manifest, and with it his forgiveness. 
But the idea is that repentance did not give him 
back his lost place in the community of men. 
You may be forgiven by heaven without being 
reinstated by earth. David got his punishment 
after he had been pardoned. There is a com- 
fort in that story. When you are overtaken by 
just penalty you attribute it to the anger of 
heaven. You need not do so; you may have 
been already forgiven. When a man seeks par- 
don " carefully and with tears," he will get it 
instantaneously; there is a place prepared for 
the penitent in the mansions of the Father. 



252 TIMES OF 

But there may not be a place ready for him in 
the mansions of nature. The prodigal has spent 
his substance in riotous living. He has heard 
his Father's voice, and he has come home. 
But that will not bring back the lost substance. 
Doubtless there is a ring and a robe awaiting 
him — the best ring and the best robe. But it 
is not the old ring and the old robe. He has 
shattered his first constitution. God will by 
and by give him a new constitution, but it will 
not be the former one. Meantime he comes in 
dilapidation, in squalor, in want. It is an 
emaciated man that listens to the music and the 
dancing. He has got his welcome, but as yet 
he has got nothing more. The songs are in 
his ear, but the thorn is in his flesh. His Father 
has embraced and kissed him, but the fruit 
of his sowing remains. 

I thank Thee, O Lord, for Thy revelation of 
the prodigal! It tells me that Thy welcome 
may precede my peace. Help me to remember 
it in my times of cfospeace! When, in answer 
to my cry for pardon, there seems to come only 
the just reward of deeds ill-done, help me to 
remember that the prodigal's welcome came be- 






RETIREMENT 253 

fore his glory ! When I have lost the old place 
among men, when I am clothed in retributive 
rags, when I am bearing the harvest of my own 
tares, help me to remember that the prodigal 
was embraced ere he was beautified! I bless 
Thee for that revelation, O my Father ! I bless 
Thee that my pardon waits not for my peace! 
I bless Thee that Thy forgiveness lingers not! 
I bless Thee that Thy mercy is independent of 
nature's mercy! The law takes its course on 
the penitent thief spite of his penitence; but 
Thy love waits not for the course of the law. 
The cross crucifies him, but Thy Christ first 
crowns him; earth's door is closed, but Thy 
gate first opens; life's birthright is lost, but 
Thy Kingdom first comes; and ere the human 
place has known him no more Thou hast pre- 
pared for him a place in Paradise! 



254 TIMES OF 



"THE CATHOLICITY OF CHRIST'S 
CRADLE " 

"Nations shall come to Thy light, and kings to the 
brightness of Thy rising." — Isaiah lx. 3. 

THE birth of Christ was the meeting of 
three continents — Europe, Asia, Af- 
rica. Europe appeared in Herod; 
he represented the power of Rome. Asia ap- 
peared in the " wise men of the East ; " they 
represented the wisdom of Persia. Africa ap- 
peared in the escape of the infant Jesus; it was 
a flight into Israel's old home — the land of 
Egypt. Each brought a different atmosphere 
to the Cradle of Bethlehem. Rome brought the 
life of the West — the active, practical, working 
life. Persia brought the life of the East — 
the deep, meditative, intellectual life. Egypt 
brought the shadows of a life beyond the earth 
— the attempt to read the great secret of death. 
And the Christmas Child has met these three 



RETIREMENT 255 

human cravings — the cry for work, the 
cry for knowledge, the cry for a life beyond. 
He has met Rome by the offer of a new field for 
human energy. He has met Persia by the open- 
ing of a new gate of knowledge. He has met 
Egypt by the revealing of a life beyond death. 
The Child-Jesus has given more than He got. 
It is He that has brought the gold and frankin- 
cense and myrrh! Three things are repre- 
sented by the nations round His cradle — body, 
mind, spirit — Rome, Persia, Egypt. And He 
has met them all. He has brought what Rome 
loved — new strength to the body, new power 
of physical endurance. He has brought what 
Persia loved — fresh fields of investigation, fresh 
liberty to explore. He has brought what Egypt 
loved — the prospect of a deathless pyramid, the 
hope for an immortal thing. 

All these wants are mine, O. Christ ; in Thee 
I have become one with all nations! To Thy 
cradle I come with the nations. I bring the 
Roman's craving for the body. I bring the 
Persian's craving for the treasures of the mind. 
I bring the Egyptian's craving for a house not 
made with hands, eternal in the heavens. Give 



256 TIMES OF 

my soul the things Thou hast brought to the 
nations ! Give me the strength Rome sought — 
the strength of Thy Gethsemane ! Give me the 
light Persia sought — the knowledge of Him 
who is the source of all knowledge! Give me 
the vision Egypt sought — the power to see a 
thing which will not pass away! Then will 
this be to me a happy Christmas. Then will 
this Christmas make me a complete man — a 
man all round. Then will three worlds be mine 
— the material, the mental, the eternal. I shall 
be more athletic than the Roman when I have 
Thy resurrection body. I shall be more stu- 
dious than the Persian when I obtain Thy view 
from the Mount. I shall be more devout than 
the Egyptian when I see Thine Immortal Life 
unveiled on Olivet. Be these Thy Christmas 
gifts to me, O Lord; so shall I learn the bright- 
ness of Thy rising ! 



RETIREMENT 257 



"THE PERMANENT THING" 

"He hath set eternity in their heart." 

Eccl. iii. 11 (R.V.) 

THERE is something in us which is in- 
dependent of the years. It is eternal 
— changeless. v It does not grow; it 
does not fade; it is the same yesterday and to- 
day and for ever. We speak much of the 
changes which the years bring. And truly they 
bring changes to many things. They change 
manners, customs, modes of life. The culture 
of the modern Briton is quite different from the 
culture of the ancient Jew. If the Judges of 
old Israel were to awake in modern London, 
they would find an intellectual world which 
they would not recognise. But they would also 
find a world which they would recognise. 
There is a region which the years touch not, 
which the centuries change not; it is the heart; 
God has set eternity there. The instincts of 



258 TIMES OF 

the heart are timeless. You enter a modern 
drawing-room to bid a friend good-bye, and 
your friend insists on going with you. You 
deem it a beautiful tribute of love; and so it is. 
But I can take you back three millenniums to an 
age, comparatively barbarous, and there I can 
show you the very same tribute. I can show 
you in the land of the Judges of Israel one 
woman bidding another good-bye, and that 
other refusing to accept her farewell, " where 
thou goest I will go, and where thou dwellest 
I will dwell; thy people shall be my people, and 
thy God my God." There has been in all these 
three millenniums no improvement in love. 
There are changes in the leaf, changes in the 
fashion, changes in the theory; but God has set 
eternity in the heart. 

Speak not, my soul, of the things that vanish 
with the years ! There are things that vanish ; 
but there is something which remains; and the 
thing which remains is the greatest thing. 
Why rests thine eye ever on the blank places, 
the vacant places ! Why art thou ever joining 
in the dirge of the hymnist, " Change and de- 
cay in all around I see " ! It may be " in all 



RETIREMENT 259 

around; " but it is not " in all within." The 
marks of time may be on the leaf; but eternity 
is in thy heart. Thy heart is neither older nor 
younger than it was in the primitive days. 
Thy love is like a rock in the sea of time; the 
waters have not washed it away. Keep thine 
eye on the rock, O my soul, for that rock is 
Christ ! Wring not thy hands over the desolat- 
ing wave; love laughs at the wave! Love is 
independent of the years; it makes equal four- 
score and seventeen. Love can retain its 
romance in old age. Love can be a primrose 
amid the withered autumn flowers. Love can 
sing in the night the joys of morning. Love 
can plant the spring at the gates of December. 
Love can put a child in the midst of the tem- 
ple's grey sages. Dry the tears thou hast shed 
over thy fleetingness, for thou hast eternity in 
thy heart! 



26o TIMES OF 



" ALONE WITH CHRIST " 

"And they which heard it went out one by one; and 
Jesus was left alone, and the woman standing in the 
midst." — John viii. 9. 

THIS is the first revelation of the Day 
of Judgment ; a sinful soul meets face 
to face with Jesus — with Jesus as her 
Judge. She meets Him alone. I believe this is 
typical of Christ's judgment of all souls. I 
think the moment immediately after death is a 
moment of solitude in which the spirit stands 
face to face with Christ. I think it is a moment 
of simple retrospect in which the past lives as a 
present — in which I shall see myself in the light 
of the Son of Man. " I thought it was to be a 
general assize," you say; " is it not written that 
the dead, small and great, shall stand before 
God ? " Yes, my brother, but it does not fol- 
low they shall stand before you. You may be 
moving in a procession whose every man is in- 



RETIREMENT 261 

visible to you. God sees it all ; but yon may be 
conscious only of yourself and Him., You may 
hear no tread behind you ; you may see no man 
before you; you may feel yourself alone with 
God. I think this moment of solitude is more 
favourable to judgment than is the scene popu- 
larly figured. The presence of a visible crowd 
does not help self-examination. It is a retard- 
ing influence. It makes me look, not in, but 
out. I keep criticising the chances of the multi- 
tude when I ought to be considering my own. 
Like Peter, instead of asking pardon for my 
denial of the Lord, I fix my eye on John, and 
say, " Lord, what shall this man do ? " It is 
well that for one instant a screen should be 
drawn between my brother and me. It is well 
that in the great procession John should be hid 
from Peter's eye. It is well that for a moment 
on the Mount I should see no man but Jesus 
only. 

My soul, practise being alone with Christ! 
It is written that " when they were alone He 
expounded all things to His disciples." Do 
not wonder at the saying; it is true to thine 
experience. If thou wouldst understand thy- 



a6i TIMES OF 

self, send the multitude away. Let them all go 
out one by one till thou art left alone with 
Jesus. To be alone with Jesus is to have thy 
judgment-day. It was when the Lord put out 
the Pharisees that the woman began to feel her 
sinfulness. As long as the Pharisees were there 
she kept saying to herself, " They are as bad, 
they are as bad ! " But when the Pharisees 
went out she lost that consolation. She stood 
alone in the Courts of the Lord with the Lord; 
she could only measure herself by Him. Hast 
thou ever figured thyself as the last of living 
men? Hast thou ever fancied that all were 
dead but thee? Hast thou ever pictured thy- 
self the one remaining creature in the earth, 
the one remaining creature in all the starry 
worlds ? In such a universe thine every thought 
would be "God and I! God and I !" And 
yet He is as near to thee as that — as near as if 
in the boundless spaces there throbbed no heart 
but His and thine. Practise that solitude, O my 
soul ! Practise the expulsion of the crowd ! 
Practise the stillness of thine own heart ! Prac- 
tise the solemn refrain " God and I ! God and 



RETIREMENT 263 

I ! " Let none interpose between thee and thy 
wrestling angel! Thou shalt be both con- 
demned and pardoned when thou shalt meet 
Jesus alone! 



264 TIMES OF 



"THE PECULIARITY OF HUMAN 
GREATNESS " 

" / drew them with cords of a man, with bands of love." 

Hosea xi. 4. 

CORDS and bands — these suggest a state 
of limitation. A cord is something 
which confines, imprisons. Is it not 
strange that God should draw man by the thing 
which limits him ! However, strange, it is true. 
Man is drawn to the sky by that side of his 
nature which depresses him. It is not my sense 
of infinitude that makes me crave for God; it 
is my sense of limit. I am distinguished from 
the beast of the field not by the things I have, 
but by the things I have not. The lower crea- 
tures have more liberty than I; they have fewer 
cords, fewer bands. There is no restriction 
imposed upon their acts; they roam at will 
through the forest, they flit unfettered through 
the air. But the moment my conscious being 



RETIREMENT 265 

dawns I find myself in bands. I have not 
power of free movement; I cannot do as I 
choose. There is a band of conscience round 
me — something which says, " Thou shalt not ! " 
There is a band of duty round me — a thing 
which says, " You are bound — you ought ! " 
Above all, there is a band of love round me. 
This is the most limiting of all the cords. It 
makes me feel that I am literally tied 
to my brother — that I am a part of his body, 
and cannot get away. Men speak of love as 
the spirit's wing. Yet truly it is rather the 
spirit's cord. It keeps me chained to you. It 
refuses to let me soar without you. It bids me 
lift your weight, your pain. It holds me to the 
ground where you are lying. It compels me to 
bear your cross. 

O Christ, I bless Thee for Thy cords ! It is 
these, and not my wings, that have lifted me 
to Thee. It is my limits that have widened me; 
it is the bands of love that have enlarged me. 
I once thought I should reach Thee through 
the broad expanse. I thought I could soar to 
Thee on the wings of speculation, on the pinions 
of fancy; but I found they brought me no 



i66 TIMES OF 

nearer to Thee. I have come nearer to Thee 
by the most unlikely road — the narrow way. 
Not on the path of the bird have I found Thee. 
Not on the track of the telescope have I traced 
Thy footsteps. Not where imagination tran- 
scends reality have I seen Thy face. I have 
met Thee amidst my bonds. I have met Thee 
when I wore creation's extra chain — the chain 
of love. My house of bondage has been my 
Land of Canaan; my prison has become my 
palace. The tribes of the air have flown upon 
the wings of the wind, and have not reached 
the Promised Land; / have walked with the 
steps of weariness and have come to the shining 
river. My cord has emancipated me. My 
limit has liberated me. My fetter has freed me. 
My cross has crowned me. The burden of my 
love has burnished my life with gold. Thou 
hast drawn me upward by that which threatened 
to keep me down; I bless Thee, O Lord, for 
Thy restraining bands ! 



RETIREMENT 267 



" CHRIST'S APPROPRIATION OF THE 
SECULAR " 

" His Son, whom He hath appointed heir of all things." 

Hebrews i. 2. 

IF I become a Christian, must I give up the 
things of the world? The writer to the 
Hebrews says, No. He says that becom- 
ing a Christian is not an abandonment, but a 
transference of man's state. I do not give up 
the things of the world, but I make a new will; 
I make Christ heir to them. If I gave them up, 
I should leave Christ heir to nothing. There 
is a great difference between abandoning a 
thing and giving it to Christ; it is the differ- 
ence between annihilating and transferring. 
I knew a lady who, when she became serious, 
sold her piano — an instrument in which she was 
proficient. She should have made Christ the 
heir to her piano. It is too bad to burn all the 
fine pictures in the house before you hand it 



268 TIMES OF 

over. I am told to cast all my cares upon 
Christ — to make Him the heir to my cares; 
and it is well. But is Christ to have nothing 
but my cares ; is He not to have my advantages 
too ! Shall I give Him only my thorn and keep 
back my rose ! Shall I yield Him only my tares 
and withhold my wheat! Shall I offer Him 
only my tears, and withhold from Him the 
sight of my smile ! Shall I let the flower wither 
before presenting it! Shall I impoverish my 
life before surrendering it! Shall I mutilate 
my spirit before committing it into His hands ! 
Nay, my Lord, I will not do that! I am 
making Thee the heir to my estate, and I will 
not give Thee only the barren soil. Thou art 
coming into my ancestral dwelling, and I will 
not dismantle it beforehand. Rather will I 
beautify it for Thy coming. I will light warm 
fires within it. I will spread a rich carpet for 
Thy feet as they did at Jerusalem long ago. 
I will repair the old furniture. I will enlarge 
the rooms. I will paint the walls. I will adorn 
and fructify the grounds. I will say of my 
house what Thou hast said of Thine — " I go to 
prepare a place for Thee/' All that is in my 



RETIREMENT 269 

house shall be Thine. I will not divide the 
rooms into secular and sacred; they will all be 
sacred. Every room will be a private chapel — 
a place for the worship of Thee. Not by speak- 
ing of Thee will I serve Thee, but by diffusing 
Thy spirit. I will try to put Thy spirit, not 
only into my sorrows, but into my joys. I will 
make Thee heir to my gifts by using the gifts 
for others. Men call the Church Thy service; 
I will make the World Thy service too. I will 
try how many my joys can gladden, how many 
my gifts can cheer, how many my wealth 
can succour, how many my influence can 
shelter. I will make Thy spirit heir to all 
my pleasures, for I shall have no pleasure un- 
shared by human hearts. All my bread will 
be Communion bread; all my wine will be Sac- 
ramental wine. Thou shalt be the accompani- 
ment to all my music, the guide of all my 
travels, the companion of all my excursions, the 
aim of all my ambitions, the joy of all my en- 
tertainments, the counsellor of all my transac- 
tions. I shall be a better man of the world 
when I have made Thee heir of all things ! 



270 



TIMES OF 



THE SECRET OF ARTLESSNESS 

"Let not thy left hand know what thy right hand 
doeth."— Matt. vi. 3. 

THE virtue here commended is artless- 
ness — unconsciousness of self. In a 
human soul it is a quality supremely 
beautiful. I do not think it is supremely beauti- 
ful in a bird of the air. The song of the lark 
charms me, and the singer is unconscious of his 
song; yet I never say I should like to be a lark. 
Why so? Because the lark is not only uncon- 
scious of himself; he is unconscious of me. 
The artlessness which I admire in my brother- 
man is not the absence of a motive; it is the 
absence of an individual motive. I should not 
appreciate a gift if the giver were unconscious 
of its value; that would take away the charm. 
I do not want him to forget the value of the 
gift, but to forget his own value. I want him 
to see me in his mirror — to be so filled with 



RETIREMENT 271 

interest in me as to be unaware that he is pass- 
ing himself by. There is an unconsciousness 
of self which comes from emptiness, and it be- 
longs to the undeveloped mind. But the uncon- 
sciousness of self which / desire is one which 
comes from deeper fulness. I would become 
artless through love. They tell us that self- 
consciousness mars a photograph. Yes; but 
how am I to get free from it? Shall I try, 
when the impression is being taken, to sink 
into a reverie — to dull the pulses of my own 
heart? Then the impression also will be dull, be- 
reft of the spirit. But if I want to be off guard, 
there is a more excellent way — let me think of 
another! The art of love makes us artless. I 
have read of Moses, " he wist not that the skin 
of his face shone/' Doubtless the unconscious- 
ness was the reason of the shining; but how did 
he get this unconsciousness? Did he fall 
asleep ? Did he become apathetic ? Did he try 
to feel himself a poor creature ? All the reverse. 
He had been upon a mount of glory. He had 
gazed on the Divine beauty. He had been at- 
tracted to an Other. He had seen the sun, and 
had forgot his own candle — forgot, even, to 



272 TIMES OF 

extinguish it. He had lost himself, not in 
darkness, but in light. 

In that light let me lose myself, O Lord! 
Be mine the artlessness of love — rof love to 
Thee ! If in Thy light I shall see light, I shall 
be unconscious of all beside. Not in death, 
not in apathy, not even in self-depreciation, 
would I forget myself, but only in Thee. Take 
me to the Mount, O Lord, take me to the 
Mount! Bathe me in the radiance of love! 
Let the sight of Thee hide me from my own 
soul. It is not that I want to feel my righteous- 
ness to be " filthy rags; " that itself would be a 
thought about self. I want to forget my right- 
eousness altogether — to think nothing about it, 
either good or bad. Not by depression but 
by elevation would I lose my pride. Not by 
soiling my garment in the mire would I be- 
come oblivious of its existence. I would for- 
get it by gazing an another garment — the spot- 
less robe of Thy Christ. With Thee, with Him, 
would I stand upon the Mount until my own 
plain and my own valley alike disappear. When 
I reach the hilltop of Thy love I shall be art- 
less as a child. 



RETIREMENT 273 



CHRISTIAN CHILDHOOD 

" Then went he down and dipped in Jordan; and his 
flesh came again like unto the Hesh of a little child." 

2 Kings v. 14. 

WHEN a man has dipped in the wave 
of experience he comes back to the 
impressions of his childhood. I 
have been often struck with the fact that there 
are no two states so like one another as the 
first and the last. There is nothing so like the 
beginning as the end. In the morning the sun 
stands upon the mountains; in the evening he 
stands upon the mountains too. Life in its 
primitive form is guided by instinct; life in its 
completed form is again guided by instinct — 
the power of intuitive sight. Our existence 
opens with a sense of freedom — freedom born 
of self-will; our existence culminates also in a 
sense of freedom — freedom born of surrendered 
will — the liberty of love. I have been often 



274 TIMES OF 

impressed by these words of Paul, " We rejoice 
in hope; and we glory in tribulation also — 
knowing that tribulation worketh patience, and 
patience experience, and experience hope.' , Do 
you observe the beautiful circle! We begin 
with the rejoicing in hope, and we end with the 
rejoicing in hope. Between the hope at the 
beginning and the hope at the end there is inter- 
posed a wave of experience — a dipping in the 
waters of tribulation. We stand at the close 
of the day on that very point of the beach 
where we stood at morning; but there is a 
difference. At morning we stood there with- 
out experience; in the evening we stand there 
after experience. In the morning we had a 
child's buoyancy, because we saw not the com- 
ing tribulation ; in the evening we have a child's 
buoyancy, because we have conquered the tribu- 
lation. In the morning we were sanguine be- 
cause we expected to escape the storm; in the 
evening we are sanguine because we have borne 
the strength of the storm and learned that life 
is stronger than its ills. 

Restore to me, O Lord, the spirit of my 
youth; give me back the buoyancy of early 



RETIREMENT 275 

days ! Set me on that point of the beach where 
I stood at morning! Yet not with the same 
eyes would I view life's boundless sea. When 
I stood on the beach in youth the waters were 
calm. My joy was the gladness of seeing no 
storm. It never occurred to me that I could 
plunge into the waters and live. Not thus 
would I stand upon the beach in the afternoon ! 
I would survey the sea from the old standpoint 
with a new glass. I would assume the san- 
guineness of the morning, but for a better 
reason! No longer would I have my hope to 
rest in clouds averted; I would have it rest in 
clouds endured. I would have all the old pos- 
sessions in a new casket. I would have child- 
hood's trust, but trust after trial. I would have 
morning's glow, but glow after gloom. I 
would have life's first faith, but faith after 
fighting. I would have youth's bright buoy- 
ancy, but buoyancy after battle. I would get 
back the confidence of the dawn, but confidence 
after conflict, the courage of love to Jesus. 
The child that Christ took in His arms had 
been bathed in the waters of Jordan. 



276 TIMES OF 



PETER'S TYPE OF THE ENDURING 

" The imperishableness of a meek and quiet spirit." 

1 Peter iii. 4. 

I HAVE translated the words as they ought 
to be rendered. Peter is contrasting the 
things which are showy with the things 
which last. He says that such ornaments as 
silver and gold are perishable things. He says 
that if we want to get something which is im- 
perishable we shall need to seek it among things 
which are not showy. And certainly he selects 
a most unshowy specimen as the type of im- 
mortality! A meek and quiet spirit — that 
seems a very humble thing! If the nations of 
his day had been asked to select their symbol 
of imperishableness, not one of them would 
have chosen this. They would all have chosen 
symbols which expressed the loud and flaring. 
Egypt would have brought her pyramids; 
Greece, her flowers; Rome, her soaring eagle; 



RETIREMENT 277 

Judah, a stone of her great temple. But none 
would have said " My emblem of immortality 
is a meek and quiet spirit." He who first said 
that was the Divine Man who preached the 
Sermon- on the Mount ; He it was that promised 
the permanence to the meek. Peter got his ideal 
from Him. Peter was speaking against his 
own nature. His was not a meek and quiet 
spirit. He was very loud, very showy, very 
eager to display himself. He had been capti- 
vated by a mind the opposite of his own. 
Originally, he would have promised immortality 
to the powers that could walk upon the sea; 
under the influence of Jesus, he predicts it for 
the quiet deeds of home. 

My soul, despise not thy moments of silence ! 
Despise not the hours of thy self-restraint ! Is 
it not written in the Apocalypse that the Book 
of Life is the Lamb's Book! And what does 
that mean? Just that thy most lasting colour 
is thy most quiet colour. Bethink thee! what 
has been the most imperishable thing in the 
most changeful years? It is a deed of self- 
restraint; men call it Calvary. All else of the 
far past has vanished from thy sight. Thrones 



278 TIMES OF 

have tottered, dynasties have faded, fashions 
have changed. But this silent deed of self-sur- 
render, done in an obscure corner of a captive 
town, is as fresh as the memory of yesterday. 
The old world has gone from thee — its faces 
and its phases. Rome has let fall her eagle 
from the air; Greece has lost her flowers in the 
field; Judah has seen her temple in the dust. 
But still to thee one spot remains green — the 
little hill of Calvary. There it stands undim- 
med, undying — outliving cohort and legion, 
surviving Senate and Caesar! Pilate, Herod, 
Caiaphas, are gone; Priest and Levite tread the 
spot no more; but the Green Hill keeps its 
verdure to thy view, and its message is ever 
the same — " The imperishableness of a meek 
and quiet spirit." 



RETIREMENT 279 



THE ROAD TO A CORRECT LIFE 

" Let us, who are of the day, be sober, putting on the 
breastplate of faith and love ; and for a helmet, the hope 
of salvation." — I Thessalonians v. 8. 

WHAT a strange recipe for a sober 
walk in life! I should have 
thought Paul would have prescribed 
hours of hard work and commonplace duty. I 
should have thought he would have adminis- 
tered a sedative to the imagination. Instead of 
that, he recommends a course of powerful emo- 
tions — faith, hope, love. And verily Paul is 
right; he must have known human nature well! 
For it is not by making men commonplace that 
you will make them sober. You cannot cure 
a bad passion by creating passionlessness. We 
are in a great mistake about this matter. We 
see people living soberly, sedately, correctly. 
We say, " They must have a very even tem- 
perament; they must be free from all flights 



2 8o TIMES OF 

of fancy." I think it is generally the reverse. 
I think a man is never so correct on the plain 
as when he has a sure sight of the hills. The 
moments when we go wrong are mostly our 
prosaic moments. There is a deep significance 
in the words, " I will lift up mine eyes unto the 
hills, whence cometh mine aid." Yes, it is from 
the hills that mine aid comes. It is by the light 
of the hills that I walk on the common road and 
do not stray. It is not sober precepts that keep 
me sober; it is high flights of faith, bright 
visions of hope, deep pulses of love. To live a 
steady life I need, not the drag, but the wing. 
I need, not the motto in the copy-book, but a 
sight of the golden west. I can only travel 
through to-day on the strength of the good 
time coming. 

Therefore, O Lord, I understand it all. I 
understand why Thou hast said before all 
things, " Come unto me." Thou hast not be- 
gun by saying, " Live soberly, walk circum- 
spectly." Thou hast carried me to the Mount 
first of all. Ere Thou hast given me one precept 
Thou hast set me on the hill with Thee. Other 
masters have begun with earth and then led 



RETIREMENT 281 

up to heaven; Thou hast begun with heaven, 
and then led down to earth. I bless Thee for 
that sublime, that Divine wisdom. Earth is 
too difficult for me till I have seen heaven. 
The more prosaic be my duties, the more I need 
the wings of the morning. I will not try the 
plain till I have met Thee on the hill. Meet 
me on the hill, O Lord ! Lift me above earth 
that I may serve earth! Fire me with high 
enthusiasm that I may be fit for the common- 
place! Send me Elijah's chariot that I may 
sweep o'er the dusty plain! Give me one 
gleam of Thy glory that I may tread the beaten 
path! Take me for one minute into Thy 
pavilion ere L go out on my daily round ! In- 
spire me with the poetry of faith, hope, love, 
that I may not stumble in the world's prose! 
I shall only be adequate to the day when I 
have put on the armour of the Life Eternal. 



282 TIMES OF 



THE SINLESSNESS OF THE SECOND 
BIRTH 

" Whoever is bom of God doth not commit sin." 

i John iii. 9. 

IS not this a startling statement — a most 
discouraging statement? Is there any 
one of us that has not something bad in 
him? Is that bad thing a sign that I am not 
born again ? St. John does not say so. What 
he says is that the new life which is born will 
not be held responsible for the bad thing. It 
is not that the old impurity is not there, but 
that it is no longer imputed. When the sun 
of a new day rises, it rises amid the clouds of 
the old day. It does not all at once become 
glorious. It dawns amid the shadows gathered 
and left behind by yester eve; with these 
shadows, for a time, it walks side by side. 
Yet we do not impute these shadows to the new 
day; we impute them to the past night. The 



RETIREMENT 283 

rising sun is guiltless of them. Its new birth is 
unspotted by them. It has become heir to the 
corruptions of a previous day; but the previous 
day bears all the reproach, and the new light 
goes free. So is it with the new light in my 
soul. It is born amid the clouds of yester- 
day. It dawns amid the shadows of the past 
— the vices of the past. It does not wait for 
the death of old habits; it comes before they 
die. None the less do we hold it sinless, guilt- 
less. The old habits which strew its path are no 
part of its attire. They belong to the garments 
which the vanished night has left behind, and 
they dim not our sense of the Divine beauty 
which is rising. 

My Father, I thank Thee for the revelation 
that there may be a sinless Christ within me 
where the memorials of sin yet remain ! Often 
have I been distressed at the clouds after con- 
version. There have come to me moments of 
rapt vision — moments when heaven was near, 
and earth seemed far away. Yet by and by they 
have passed, and I have found myself repeating 
the deeds of yesterday, and I have cried with 
exceeding bitterness " The sinless vision was a 



284 TIMES OF 

delusion; I have not been born again!" At 
such times, O Lord, let me hear this message 
of Thine that the clouds of yesterday are not 
imputed to the rising sun! Let me hear the 
new life within me saying, " These sins are not 
mine ! '' Let me hear the new man within me 
singing, " It is not / who have done it; it is an 
heirloom of yesterday ! " Teach me that, 
though my Christ is born in the manger, the 
manger is not a part of my Christ ! Teach me 
that, though He is born with the beasts of the 
stall, He lives by another life than theirs! 
Teach me that, though He cometh with clouds, 
the clouds belong to my yester eve — not to the 
light of His morning ! Teach me that the new 
life is sinless, though it wears the garments of 
the old! Let me not sink before the sight of 
shadows after dawn ! Let me not quail before 
the view of grey amid the gold! Let me not 
deem my Christ still dead because the stone is 
not rolled away! Let me remember that His 
rising precedes the opening of the grave! So 
shall I not despair though evil lingers; so, even 
amid corruption, shall I cherish hope that al- 
ready in my soul there may be a life without sin. 



RETIREMENT 285 



CHRIST'S CALL TO THE BEREAVED 

"And another of His disciples said, Lord, suffer me 
first to go and bury my father. But Jesus said unto him, 
Follow me; and let the dead bury their dead." 

Matt. viii. 21, 22. 



"£lUFFER me first to bury my father" 
1 ^J — to finish the days of mourning for 
my father. What the young man really 
meant was that he did not feel in spirits for 
joining such a public cause as that of Jesus — 
involving, as it did, such contact with the 
world; he wanted for a while to nurse his grief 
in seclusion. There are many whose sorrow 
takes the form of this young man's sorrow. 
We have a tendency in the time of bereave- 
ment to resist locomotion, to keep within doors, 
to go nowhere. I believe this fear of going out 
springs from the dread of coming back. I once 
urged a bereaved lady to seek a temporary 
change of scene. She said she would go at 
once but for the terror of returning — of meet- 



286 TIMES OF 

ing anew the old haunts without the old ac- 
companiments. To come back to the old house 
and find no welcome there — to enter the hall and 
miss the former greeting, to mount the stairs 
and hear no footstep descending to meet me, 
to see the familiar chair without its occupant, 
to experience the blank in spots which once 
were full — all this is reaped by the bereaved 
heart in coming home. It reminds us of the 
poet's plaint when he stood by a familiar sea 
and heard the breaking of a familiar wave, but 
missed " the touch of a vanished hand and the 
sound of a voice that is still." The heart that 
has not buried its sorrow refuses to go out 
because it dreads returning. 

And yet, my brother, Jesus bids thee go. As 
He bade the young man, so He bids thee. 
Thou canst not cure thine own sorrow by nurs- 
ing it; the longer it is nursed, the more invet- 
erate it grows. It will be harder for thee to 
go out to-morrow than it is to-day; it will be 
harder still the day after. Thou canst not 
cure thy sorrow by nursing it; but thou canst 
cure it by nursing another's sorrow. Thinkest 
thou that Jesus wanted this young man to be 



RETIREMENT 287 

a stoic ! Was it from the ties of the heart He 
called him when He said " Follow me"? No, 
it was to the ties of the heart — other ties of 
other hearts. It was no foreign scene to which 
Jesus called him — no scene foreign to his grief. 
Not from the graveyard into the dance did He 
summon him, but from the smaller into the 
larger cemetery. Thither in thine hour of sor- 
row does He summon thee. He bids thee bury 
thy sorrow, not in Cana, but in Gethsemane — 
not in the winecup, but in the common pain. 
It is by tears He would heal thy tears; it is by 
grief He would cure thy grief. Come out into 
the larger cemetery ; come out to meet the com- 
mon pain ! By no frivolity will He dry thine 
eyes. To follow Him is to follow the cortege 
of all the Nains and Bethanys. To follow Him 
is to follow the stream of universal human 
suffering. Bury thy sorrow beside that stream ! 



288 TIMES OF 



THE CURATIVE WISDOM OF JESUS 

"Jesus asked him, saying, What is thy name? And 
he said, Legion: because many devils were entered into 
him." — Luke viii. 30. 

I HAVE often thought this was a strange 
mode of treatment from the Great Phy- 
sician. He asks the man, " What is thy 
name ? " — what is the nature of your com- 
plaint? He knew perfectly well what it was — 
much better than the patient. Yet He asks the 
patient to fix his mind on his own symptoms! 
Was this well? Is it not reckoned good to 
divert the mind from its own calamities? Not 
always. There are times in which the contrary 
is desirable; and this was one of them. This 
man had been hardened by his calamity. He 
had received it in a bad spirit — an arrogant, 
rebellious, stony spirit. He had become so 
sullen that he had grown dead to feeling; he 
had lived among the tombs. What was the 



RETIREMENT 289 

first thing to be done with such a man? To 
rouse him, to make him feel. Before all things 
the atmosphere of the tombs, the sense of dead- 
ness, must be cleared away. The nearest par- 
allel to this narrative which I know in modern 
days will be found in these touching lines of 
Tennyson : — 

Home they brought her warrior dead, 
She nor swooned nor uttered sigh; 

All her maidens round her said, 
" She must weep or she must die." 

The resemblance lies in the deadening ex- 
perience, the tomb-like experience, of each 
sufferer. Both have to be awakened to a sense 
of their own sorrow. Both have to be roused 
into the experience of their pain. Both require 
to get their sleep interrupted — to be pointed to 
the storm which is raging o'er the deck. When 
the heart is becoming petrified it is good for it 
to realise that the name of its woes is " Legion." 

Hast thou considered this wisdom of Jesus! 
There are moments when thy grief can only 
be cured by tears. When thy joy is brought 
home dead, often canst thou neither swoon nor 
sigh, neither sob nor moan. The clock of life 



290 TIMES OF 

stands still; it cannot point to the name of its 
own sorrow. Thou art among the tombs. 
Thou art dumb, deaf, blind to thy surround- 
ings. Hast thou considered the wisdom of 
Jesus! Say not it was one of the poets made 
the discovery that such a one must weep or 
die! It was seen earlier than by any of thy 
poets; it was seen by the eye of Jesus. " What 
is the name of thy grief? " He cries to the be- 
numbed heart; " what is the name of the dread 
power that wrestles with thee ? " He wants 
thee to feel the might of the opposing legion. 
He wants to wake thy tears. He wants to 
break the reign of death in thy heart. He 
wants by a gush of waters to melt the ice upon 
the river. " What is the name of thy sorrow ? 
Tell me the tale of thy grief ! Speak it out ; do 
not keep it in! If it be kept in, thou wilt be 
cramped and frozen. Tell it to somebody, nay, 
tell it to me! I know it already; but to speak 
will help thy heart. Pour forth the pent-up 
torrent into my bosom, and the flood will bring 
thee to Mount Ararat; thy tears will give thee 
rest ! Thy grief has passed the sepulchre when 
it can say, ' My name is Legion.' " 



RETIREMENT 291 



THE BEST TRIBUNAL 

" We must all appear before the judgment seat of 
Christ." — 2 Cor. v. 10. 

I AM glad it is before the judgment seat 
of Christ I am to stand. I should not like 
to stand before any lesser tribunal. I 
used to think it was a hard thing that the lowest 
should be confronted by the highest. I have 
found that it is the kindest of all things. None 
is so fit to judge the lowest as the highest. 
The beginner in art should go to the master- 
painter; the beginner in music should go to the 
master-singer. I thought in the days of old 
that the best chance for me would lie in the mind 
nearest to my level. It was a great mistake. 
It is the master-mind that sees the possibilities 
of the tyro. I will not be judged by the angels 
— not even by the guardian angels. They may 
guard me, but they must not judge me. I have 
done a piece of beginner's work. It is very 



292 TIMES OF 

crude, very faulty, very childish. But possibly 
there may be germs in it — prophecies of a com- 
ing beauty. Who shall detect these germs? 
Not my brother on earth, not the angel in 
heaven. These are not high enough to take the 
child in their arms. They are on too low a 
level to catch sight of the returning prodigal; 
their eye cannot discern a form so far off. If 
I want recognition of my possibilities, I must 
lift my eyes to the hills. 

To Thy hill of holiness do I lift mine eyes, 

Lord; my safety comes only from Thee! I 
fly to the height to find room for my valley. 
Only before Thy judgment seat is there a 
chance for me. There is no chance for me when 

1 stop at the plain. The minds in the middle 
of the ladder have no eye for those below them. 
Therefore, I will not pause in the middle; I 
will seek the topmost round. I pass the judg- 
ment thrones of earth; I come to Thee. The 
judgment thrones of earth are speckled thrones; 
Thine is the great white throne. I appeal to 
the great white throne against the speckled 
thrones. I say with Thy Psalmist, "When 
shall I appear before God? " I have long been 



RETIREMENT 293 

appearing before man; I thought the lower 
court would be the lenient court. But I have 
ever come out a condemned soul. My brother 
cannot see my germs; he is too near to me for 
that. I appeal to the higher court, the upper 
court. I appeal from Felix to Caesar; I appeal 
from earth to heaven. I understand now Thine 
invitation, " Come unto me and / will give you 
rest." I come to Thee ! I pass the plain in my 
flight from the valley; I make for the height. I 
bring my sins to Thy judgment seat — my 
crimson sins, my scarlet sins. I come to the 
mind of the master — the Master-Mind. Save 
me from the judgment thrones of the partially 
pure; I would "appear" to none but Thee! 



294 TIMES OF 



THE PRESERVATION OF WASTE 
THINGS 

" The napkin that was about His head, wrapped to- 
gether in a place by itself." — John xx. 7. 

WHY so careful of so poor a thing? 
A napkin which had covered the 
face of the dead Christ is wrapped 
together by angel hands, and laid in a corner 
apart! It had never been meant for any use 
but as a covering of the dead face of Jesus. 
Even that use had been rendered impracticable; 
Jesus had risen, and His face had become rad- 
iant with life. There was no further need of 
the napkin. It had been intended only for 
the grave; and now even for the grave it 
was useless. Why did the angel not simply 
pass it by? Why take it up tenderly, fold it 
together carefully, lay it by separately? We 
can understand the gathering of the fragments 
that remained from the desert feast, for these 



RETIREMENT 295 

could make another feast. But the napkin had 
reached its final sphere, and there was no fur- 
ther place for it ; why should celestial hands be 
so sedulous for its preservation? Because all 
our discarded past lives in the thought of God. 
The things we have surmounted and thrown 
away are gathered up by heaven. It takes our 
chaff into its garner. The dead past which I dis- 
miss with scorn is treasured by the hand of the 
Almighty. It is meant to meet us again in the 
Resurrection Light — to be seen in retrospect 
from the top of the hill. Many a dead garment 
is glorified by memory; many a flower blooms 
in the heart when it has withered in the garden. 
This napkin had only been associated with sor- 
row; it was to be associated with joy. It had 
been the symbol of tears ; it was to be the badge 
of victory. It had been the mark of defeat, of 
failure, of death; it was to be the sign of 
triumph, of success, of life for evermore. God 
says of the vanished years, " I will not let them 
go until you have blessed them." 

Lord, teach me the solemnity of the treasured 
napkin! Teach me the solemnity of the truth 
that Thou hast a place for the things I have 



296 TIMES OF 

discarded! How much that I have cast away 
as graveclothes has been treasured by Thee! 
How many things that I have thrown as rub- 
bish to the void have been folded up and laid 
aside by Thee! Often it seems to me that the 
moments I called waste have been the most 
fruitful moments. I have had hours in the 
desert which appeared to me useless — hours 
when I seemed to be standing still, driven into a 
corner, shunted from the way. And, lo, in the 
light of future years I have looked back, and the 
desert was a garden! It had been the most 
crowded hour of my life, the most epoch-mak- 
ing hour, the hour when angels ministered unto 
me. Help me to look reverently on my dis- 
carded garments ! Even when I have outgrown 
them, let me reverence them ! Even when they 
seem never to have fitted me, let me reverence 
them ! Even when they appear to have cramped 
me, limited me, confined me, let me reverence 
them! Let me remember that in the light of 
the resurrection morning I shall see them — see 
them as the garments of the universe ! Let me 
remember that Thou hast not outgrown them, 



RETIREMENT 297 

though / have — that they are parts of Thy 
time-vesture, and must be vindicated by the per- 
fect day! All my dead things shall live again 
in Thee. 



INDEX 



Agnosticism that Need Not 

Despair, An, 197 
Alone with Christ, 260 
Architecture of Man, The, 

104 
Asceticism, 190 
Attractiveness of Christ, 

The, 35 

Best Tribunal, The, 291 
Burden in Heaven, The, 
137 

Catholicity of Christ's Cra- 
dle, The, 254 
Chapter in Inward Biogra- 
phy, A, 38 
Christ's Appropriation of 

the Secular, 267 
Christ's Call to the Be- 
reaved, 285 
Christian Childhood, 273 
Christian Emulation, JJ 
Christian Resignation, 248 
Christian Simplicity. 83 
Congrnity between Prayer 
and its Answer, The, 50 
Curative Wisdom of Jesus, 
The, 288 



Decline of Reckless Cour- 
age, The, 149 
Divine Heredity, 116 

Emancipation from School, 
The, 225 

Fire Without the Lamb, 

The, 187 
First Recognition of 

Christ, The, 53 

God's Highest Glory, 194 
God's Place for Adversity, 

65 
Ground of Human Hope, 

The, 47 
Groundless Fear of God, 

A, 71 

Hottest Part of Life's Fur- 
nace, The, 74 

Inadequacy of Mere Sur- 
roundings, The, 216 
Instinct and Reason, 125 

Joyousness of Piety, The, 
171 



299 



300 



INDEX 



Lazarus Bound, 128 
Lateness of Abraham's 

Sacrifice, The, 184 
Latest Voice of God, The, 

231 

Marriage of Prayer and 
Almsgiving. The, 242 

Marriage of Prayer and 
Joy, The, 245 

Meeting of Life's Ex- 
tremes, The, 155 

Men who Have no Work, 
The, no 

Morning and the After- 
noon, The, 203 

Pain that is Divine, The, 
134 

Paul's Hymn to Love, 165 

Peaceableness after Purity, 
The, 143 

Peculiarity of Human 
Greatness, The, 264 

Penalty and Pardon, 251 

Permanent Thing, The, 257 

Peter's Type of the En- 
during, 276 

Place for Religious Re- 
search, The, 235 

Place of Human Effort in 
Religion, The, 119 

Postponement of the Bea- 
tific Vision, The, 44 

Prayer for Christ's Sake, 
177 



Preservation of Waste 

Things, The, 294 
Principle of Heavenly 

Rank, The, 89 
Provinces of Love, The, 

181 

Real World, The, 80 
Rejected of the World, 

The, 200 
Relation of Theism to 

Christianity, The, 98 
Religion and Immortality, 

86 
Remedy for a Wounded 

Heart, The, 206 
Renewal in Christ, 92 
Revelation of Heaven that 

Comes from Earth, The, 

122 
Revelation that Retarded, 

The, 56 
Revelation that Rewarded, 

The, 59 
Road to a Correct Life, 

The, 279 

Safeguard against Despair, 
The, 209 

Salvation and Dilapida- 
tion, 158 

Sanctifying of Worldly 
Gifts, The, 219 

Satan's Choice of a Local- 
ity, 68 

Secret of Artlessness, 270 



INDEX 



301 



Secret of Christian Stoop- 
ing, The, 239 

Self-Surrender, 131 

Service by the Sorrowful, 
168 

Singular Change of Fash- 
ion, A, 101 

Sinlessness of the Second 
Birth, The, 282 

Slavery which Glorifies, 
The, 95 

Sphere where Calm is Es- 
sential, The, 213 

Spiritual Environment, 113 

Spiritual Preservation, 62 

Strength of the Heart, 
The, 41 



Summer of the Soul, 174 

Test of Self-Emptying, 

The, 228 
Thanksgiving for the 

Blessed Dead, 161 

Union of Sanctity and Lib- 
erty, The, 146 
Unreality, 152 
Unuttered Coin, The, 222 

Value of Easter Day, The. 

140 
Veiling of God's Face, 

The, 107 



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